


Nothing Dims These Stars

by Ribbonsflying



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel
Genre: Activist Steve Rogers, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Awesome Sarah Rogers, Computer Programmer Bucky Barnes, False Accusations, Hypoglycemia, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Injury, Jack Rollins is the asshole ex, M/M, Moving, New York City, No Sexual Violence, No Smut, Past Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Public Speaking, Recovery, Triggers, and an unhealthy obsession with ricotta, author Steve Rogers, based on art, discussion of domestic abuse, implied consensual intimacy only, we always blame rumlow or pierce so it was jack's turn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:35:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27596948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ribbonsflying/pseuds/Ribbonsflying
Summary: Sarah Rogers runs a home to help recovering survivors of domestic violence. It's not a shelter, but it's not NOT a shelter either. There is a rule that her son, Steve, does not get involved with the guests that stay there- a rule that Steve has never had a problem with before.Then Sarah gets her first male guest, a well-mannered and somewhat lost Bucky Barnes.Bucky is not looking for a relationship. Bucky is looking to get back on his feet. And Steve is trying his best not to look at Bucky.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Riley/Sam Wilson
Comments: 83
Kudos: 168
Collections: Marvel Reverse Big Bang 2020





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ohstars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohstars/gifts).



> **PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE HEED THE TAGS.**  
>  **THIS FIC DEALS WITH THE AFTERMATH OF INTIMATE PARTNER VIOLENCE.  
> **  
>  Intimate partner violence is discussed numerous times.  
> Note: There is no sexual violence in this fic and sexual assault is not a part of it in any way.
> 
> This fic was inspired by a piece of gorgeous art by Jo ([ohstars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohstars)) entitled [Pride](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27594220). It will make you feel wonderful, emotional things. Thank you, Jo, so much for allowing me to create a story to go along with this piece and for cheering me on the entire way. You made this collaboration the best one I have ever had for a bang and I respect and appreciate it.
> 
> Also thank you to Lilla ([lillaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillaby)), my incredible beta who edited the shit out of this so it wasn't a piece of shit. You should all thank her, really. Not to mention I sprang ideas on her all the time and she was somehow cool with it and supportive. And Brittany ([Britt_pknapp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Britt_pknapp)) for listening to me bitch and complain and never bitching or complaining back- a true hero.
> 
> Sections are labeled with the names of the character they focus the most on. It is not supposed to be from their POV.
> 
> Title from Matt Nathanson song "Car Crash."
> 
>  **Final note:** While a number of the events mentioned in this story have been inspired by true events, both the author and the others who inspired these stories are all in safe places in our lives now. Don't worry. :)

  
[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/147908809@N02/50611888792/in/dateposted-public/)

Part One

STEVE

Sometime in the middle of October, Sarah Rogers picked up the phone in the middle of dinner. It was important. The only reason she still had a landline was for a very serious reason, and it had only rang two times in the past year.

"Hello?" Sarah answered in her sweetest old lady voice. American accent. Steve grinned from across the island where he sat and took another bite of his casserole. His mother was getting up in age, but she wasn't anywhere near as old as that voice made her sound, and she was definitely still Irish.

"Of course," Sarah spoke in her real voice a few seconds later. "But Steve will be by here some. Make sure he knows that and is okay with it. If he is, he's welcome."

They exchanged a few more words and Sarah hung up the phone and turned to her son.

"I may be getting a visitor," she said easily as she sat back down at the marble-top island. "A boy."

"A boy?" Steve asked. "Are you child services now?"

"A man," Sarah corrected with a fond eye-roll as she picked her fork back up.

"A man now? He grew up in seconds. Ma, you know just because you think I will eternally be a toddler doesn't mean you can refer to men you've never met as children as well."

"I just hate to see people your age going through such things. It makes you all seem so young.”

“How old were you?” Steve asked, more or less to make a point, but Sarah just scooped some more broccoli and cheese onto her plate and shook her head.

Steve chewed and swallowed his food before speaking up again. "Where from?" He had been all over the country, and felt like he had seen all of it that was worth seeing after so many trips.

"That was Cathy in Indianapolis," she answered. "They said he had been with them for a while recovering from surgery. Didn’t say what happened and it isn’t my place to ask.” She made a sad face and shook her head before returning to dinner.

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

BUCKY

Instinctively, Bucky knew New York wasn’t the smartest choice he could have made. His mother had some distant relatives there and it’s where he had gone to college, so plenty of people knew he had ties to the place. But his mother’s family lived in Scarsdale outside the city, and he had gone to school in Manhattan. Brooklyn was new and different for a new and different him.

Besides, he didn’t want to move to Tallahassee or Chicago or Portland where the other offers had come from. He wanted to be in a place he undoubtedly knew he would like. He had enough things in his life to be dissatisfied with already.

The car stopped in front of a modest brownstone in Brooklyn Heights, and Bucky looked it over before reaching for his backpack on the seat beside him.

“Thank you,” he muttered as the driver was stepping out and going around the back of the vehicle. 

He looked at the home again. There was a lamp on inside of the front room downstairs, and the front porch light was on even though it wasn’t dark enough yet to really need it. It was a welcoming gesture, and some part of Bucky’s mind told him to appreciate it.

He took his bags from the driver and nodded a gentle, “Thank you,” before grabbing the handle of one and setting the smaller bag on top of it. He was rolling the suitcase along the walkway up to the house when the door opened.

“Hello,” a blonde-haired lady greeted with a warm smile. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said for the third time in as many minutes, and she motioned him in ahead of her into the home.

She waved to the driver, and then closed and locked the door before turning to her new housemate.

“Welcome to Brooklyn,” she told him. “How was your trip?”

“The driver was very quiet,” Bucky admitted, shrugging one shoulder. “Thank you for having me here.”

“Oh, it’s a pleasure. Everyone needs stepping stones to get to where they’re going,” she said with a kind smile and held out her hand. “I’m Sarah Rogers.”

Bucky set down the backpack and reached out his right hand while shoving the left into his hoodie pocket.

“James Barnes, but I go by Bucky if you don’t mind.”

Sarah shook her head. “It doesn’t matter if I mind. You go by Bucky. That’s what people should call you.” She motioned to the book bag by Bucky’s feet. “Grab your things. Let me show you to your room.”

A brownstone in Brooklyn seemed very expensive for a single lady who lived alone, but Bucky supposed organizations helped keep homes like this operational. He followed Sarah up two flights of stairs, eyeing a bay window and some comfortable chairs surrounded by shelves of books on the second floor before they ascended to the third. Bucky was carrying his suitcase to keep the wheels from clacking against every step.

“This will be your room,” Sarah announced as she stepped into a nice-sized room and flipped on the lights.

Bucky followed her inside the space and looked around. A queen-sized bed with perfectly made grey and white linens, and an iron based lamp sat on the nightstand beside it. The dark cappuccino wood of the nightstand matched the wood of the desk across the room, and Bucky saw that the room had its own door to the bathroom and a walk-in closet. Two shelving units with only a few items on them met in one corner.

“Wow,” he murmured, and Sarah saw he was looking at the ceiling. 

“My son, Steven, painted that when he was in tenth grade,” she said with a smile. “I think he was upset I wouldn’t let him make his bedroom on the top floor where there’s a skylight.”

Bucky grinned and set down his bag. “It’s really good.”

“He’s an artist,” she told him. “Always has been. They told you he’ll be by on Sundays, didn’t they? He may come by other days, but never unannounced. However, he always comes by every Sunday he is in town.”

“Yes, they told me. It’s fine. I’m not skittish or scared of strangers or anything.”

Sarah nodded. “There are a few rules for the house. Very few. This room is yours for as long as you live here, and you have access to everything in the house except my bedroom, my bathroom, and my office. You’re welcome to come into the office if I’m in there, but otherwise, if you need to use the computer or anything, there’s one in the library that we passed on the second floor.”

“Library,” Bucky laughed, mostly to himself. “I knew it had a lot of books.”

Sarah just gave him an indulgent smile. 

“Second and third rules are obvious. No smoking, vaping, or incense in the house. And keep music and television to a reasonable level. Loud music is for headphones.”

Bucky nodded. 

“Fourth rule: You must make decisions here and take accountability for your actions.”

Bucky furrowed his brow in slight confusion, but then nodded. 

“And fifth, I prefer that we eat at least one meal a day together. If we can’t, that’s fine, but let me know in advance please so I don’t make too much food.”

“I’ll help with food.”

“The first week or so, I want you to relax and learn to feel comfortable here. After that, if you want to help with the food, you’re welcome. And I will ask you to do your own laundry and help out around the house with just a few basic things after that.”

Bucky nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Otherwise, you’re here to get back on your feet, so any questions you have about schooling or a job or the market or anything of that nature, just feel free to ask. I want us to be friends.”

Bucky glanced up at the ceiling again, and looked at the stars and comets and planets painted there and how the colors all blended so beautifully. “I promise.”

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

STEVE

“And I know it’s nearing the end of Pride for everyone who celebrates in October, but I think we can all agree that every day is a good day to be proud of those who got us to where we are,” Steve spoke into the camera. “And everyday is a good day to fight for something better, so we’ll keep fighting even when the calendar rolls over into November. I’ll keep you posted on the street name changes. You keep me posted on events you hear about too. Remember we’re all in this fight together. Take care of each other. Stay strong. I love you.”

He reached and ended the live stream and turned off the camera.

Sam was waiting across the room. He had propped himself in the doorway watching Steve do the stream, and waited until everything was over to say, “Riley and I are going to talk to two of the city planners tomorrow if you want to come.”

“Nah, I can’t,” Steve said, shutting down his laptop. “The Skype meeting with Act Up is in the morning. I’ve got that fundraiser with the Youth Alliance until six, and then I promised to attend Natasha’s recital.”

“It’s cool. We can handle it.”

“Let me know how it goes.” Steve closed the laptop and looked across at his work partner and best friend.

“Always do,” Sam replied with a grin. “Riley and I are heading out.”

“I’ll text you tomorrow. I’m gonna try to get enough done that I can head to my mom’s on Sunday. You know how she gets when I don’t visit.”

“Someone’s gotta make sure you’re eating properly.”

Steve scoffed. 

“Well, send her my love.”

Riley popped his head in and waved goodbye. He already had his jacket on, and he had slung his satchel over his shoulder. 

“Have a good night!” Steve called as Sam and Riley both said their goodbyes. He heard them pad through the apartment, and then the door open and shut behind them as they left.

Steve flipped off the light as he left the room, and he could hear heavy footsteps as Moxie made her way from the living room to the hallway to meet him.

“I know, I know. I’m making dinner right now,” he told the dog as she rounded the corner and gave him a very sad look. “You’re not going to starve. It’s only eight-thirty.”

He pet the top of her head as he walked by and she followed him into the kitchen. Moxie always liked to be in the kitchen when Steve was cooking just in case he dropped something and needed someone to clean it up for him.

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

BUCKY 

He’d fallen asleep without unpacking much more than his phone charger, his toothbrush, and his pajamas the first night, but Bucky’s first full day in Brooklyn meant settling in.

Every item of clothing went into the closet where there were both hanging racks and a built-in dresser. He made a mental note to buy more socks and maybe something nice for a job interview, and then went about unpacking the few non-clothing personal items he had brought with him. 

There was a generic tablet with fingerprints on the screen, a set of keys to places in Indiana he would probably never visit again, a box of Reece’s Pieces he’d bought at a convenience store on the way to New York, and a notebook where he’d been keeping a gratitude list and little positive notes to himself.

Along with his toothbrush and toothpaste, he had placed a few other items in the adjoining bathroom. There was a hairdryer and some body wash, shampoo, and conditioner that all found homes. He had face cleanser, shaving cream, and a razor all set neatly along the shelf provided. A pack of plastic dental floss sticks and a coconut oil leave-in conditioner went into a drawer before he looked around with a sudden realization.

“Towel,” he said to himself, and walked back into the bedroom to grab his phone and add towels to a shopping list he was making. He didn’t have a lot of money, but a towel was pretty much a necessity.

Just above a crack in the phone screen, the time flashed a little after twelve, and Bucky realized he hadn’t told Sarah that he would miss lunch so she was quite possibly waiting on him. He shoved his phone into his pocket and left the room in a hurry, feet landing quickly on each step the whole way. 

“Sorry,” he apologized as he arrived in the kitchen. The kitchen of the brownstone was very tidy and open, and Bucky liked it. “I didn’t realize what time it was.”

Sarah was at the stove stirring a pot, but she turned to him when he hurried into the room.

“It’s not a problem,” she replied as she motioned for him to sit down at the island. He had come downstairs for breakfast wearing pajamas, but now he was wearing a long sleeved t-shirt and jeans. “I’m not quite finished cooking anyway. And I meant to ask this morning, do you have any dietary restrictions? Allergies? Vegetarian? Vegan? Aversion to foods that start with the letter A?”

James raised an eyebrow as Sarah turned back to the food, but not before she smirked at him so he laughed.

“I’ll try anything once. Except jams. Jam is gross. Jam is an evil food that couldn’t be a fruit and couldn’t be a jelly and settled for some bastardization of both.”

“I’m starting to feel very happy I went with the french toast for breakfast.”

“What’s for lunch? It smells good.”

“Vegetarian BLTs with a bean soup for dipping.”

“I didn’t even realize I was hungry until you said that.” He could see their plates with the sandwiches sitting on them near the stove, but he didn’t see any bowls out yet.

“May I get some bowls for you?” he asked. 

“You sit where you are. Let me serve you. For the first week, you are a guest in my house. After that, you’ll be settled in and more than welcome to get me anything I need.”

She stepped over and opened a cabinet where she retrieved two bowls, and then stepped over to another spot and retrieved two spoons from a drawer.

James watched silently except for the quiet clicks of his fingers tapping the inside of his palm. His left arm was a new prosthetic, and the material was a lightweight metal that made him feel like a Cyberman from Doctor Who when he looked at it. He’d caught himself tapping out little rhythms with it a few times now.

“Water, juice, or tea?” Sarah asked as she spooned soup out into two bowls.

“Whatever you’re having.”

“Which do you prefer?”

“Just water,” Bucky admitted. “Unless I’m cold. Then I like hot tea and coffee.”

“Not big on juices?”

“Not really. But tea comes in so many flavors, it’s like an adult version of juice.”

“No, dear,” Sarah said, turning and placing their food down onto the island. “Wine and margaritas are the adult versions of juice.”

Both Sarah and Bucky laughed as she went to the refrigerator to pour them both drinks.

“Best not to have that with lunch,” Bucky added. He watched as she came back holding the drinks and accepted his with a quiet, “Thank you,” before asking, “What’s the best place around here to pick up some basic supplies? I’ve gotta buy detergent and socks and some things.”

“Not far at all. I’ll give you directions after lunch. My son, Steve, is coming for lunch tomorrow. Sometimes he only stays an hour or two, and sometimes he stays through dinner. I’d like for you to join us for at least one of the meals if you feel comfortable.”

“That’s fine,” Bucky agreed. “I’m not scared of men in general. Though I appreciate the warning. I won’t freak out or anything if he comes over without warning. You’re his mom. He should visit you. Often.”

Sarah smiled as she picked up her sandwich, and then seemed to remember she had forgotten to say grace. Bucky waited silently, giving her a moment’s space as she prayed over their food, and then it was like a bubble popped as she crossed herself and she went back to her meal.

“Catholic?” Bucky asked afterward.

“Well, I’m Irish and we don’t have much of a choice,” Sarah laughed wryly. “I wouldn’t know who I was without it at this point.”

“I grew up Jewish,” Bucky told her as he picked up his spoon.

“Well, I imagine you’re still Jewish then, right? The religion is optional, but the ethnicity isn’t.”

“Guess so, but we never really did anything to distinguish us from the non-Jewish families around us. Never had Shabbat or went to a temple or anything. We didn’t even follow naming traditions. Though I am told that when my father told my grandfather they’d named me James after him, he nearly collapsed on the floor, so maybe it is a bad omen after all.”

Sarah shook her head.

“My father wasn’t Jewish so he had no way of knowing that was against the rules,” Bucky continued.

“Oh? So your mother is? I have a hard time believing anyone converted if you don’t observe.”

“My mom was, yeah. My father grew up Presbyterian, I think. Didn’t follow that either.”

“I guess maybe they thought that made it easier for you to grow up without the guilt or burden of religion hanging over you. Fear of the ever watchful eyes of God make it hard to be yourself sometimes.”

Bucky made a small sound, just something under his breath, and brought his spoon to his mouth to eat his lunch.

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

STEVE

Steve was about to walk up the sidewalk to the brownstone the following afternoon when Bucky returned from the store carrying two plastic bags.

Steve was pretty sure Bucky caught him glancing and then turning away and looking back his way a second time because damn, the man was gorgeous. His mother had reminded Steve that Bucky was there with a text earlier that morning, but she never mentioned that Bucky looked like that. 

“Steve?” Bucky asked as Steve turned onto the sidewalk the same time he did.

“Yes,” he replied, glancing at Bucky’s prosthetic arm quickly, but then politely looking away. “Bucky?”

“I see my reputation precedes me.”

“My ma texted me that you were here so I wouldn’t be surprised when I came over.”

“Did she tell you she won’t let me help her with anything? I feel really awkward having her cook for me.”

They reached the front door and Steve pulled out a key ring from his pocket. 

“She has a rule, yeah. Get used to it for the next few days. For the first week, everyone is a guest. By next week, she’ll happily put you to work. Trust me.”

“Good. I feel like I’m taking advantage of her hospitality.”

“Nah. Think of it as a needed break.” Steve shoved the key into the lock and opened the door for Bucky. 

Bucky passed by with a polite, “Thank you.”

“Ma?” Steve called as soon as he stepped inside the foyer. 

Bucky stepped out of his shoes and left them in the coat closet by the door. Steve had known many guests to walk on into the house with their shoes on, and the gesture seemed thoughtful enough that Steve stepped on the heels of his own shoes, stepped out of them, and added them to the closet with Bucky’s.

He spotted his mother pulling something from the oven as soon as he stepped into the kitchen. “I brought the eggs you asked for,” he said in lieu of a greeting. 

Sarah set the casserole dish down and turned to her son.

“Thank you.” She pulled the oven mitts from her hands and wrapped her arms around him. “Was that you talking to Bucky?”

“He was at the door, walked up the same time I did,” Steve answered as he looked around. Bucky had disappeared up the stairs with his bags when Steve had gone toward the kitchen.

“Good. Good. He’s been a little withdrawn so far, but he’s told me he’s fine with you and you’re welcome to talk to him.”

Steve nodded and opened the fridge to situate the eggs. 

“No, no, I need those,” Sarah said, reaching for the carton. “They go into the dessert.”

“All of them?” 

“Don’t be cheeky.” She took the eggs and got back to work, so Steve just grinned and reached into his pocket. He pulled out his wallet and withdrew a few bills before placing them on the table in front of her. “I paid the house payment and made sure utilities came out. There’s enough money for the light bill, so I’m bringing you some grocery money.” 

She glanced at it and nodded twice before looking back at the food.

“Did you hear that? It’s grocery money,” Steve replied, emphasizing where the money was to be spent. “Are you with me on this?”

“Yes, Steven,” Sarah replied with a roll of her eyes. “Grocery money so you won’t starve when you come here to eat.”

Steve scoffed as he turned and reached for plates from one of the overhead cabinets.

“I’ll help too,” came a voice a second later as Steve was setting out silverware.

“No, Steven’s got it,” Sarah replied almost instantly. “What would you like to drink?” she asked Bucky.

“Orange blossom tea?”

“Ma?” Steve asked. 

“I’ve got my water already if you want to refill it.”

Steve grabbed the tea pitcher with the orange slices floating in it, and set about making the drinks up for them both. Ice first, and then he sliced up fresh oranges and poured the tea over a slice so the tastes would be freshly blended. He chopped the remaining piece of orange into big chunks and speared them onto two small wooden skewers, before adding blueberries and strawberries and laying each overtop the tops of the two glasses. He turned around and placed both on the island. Bucky stood on the other side.

“Bartender?” he asked.

“No, just... Steve shrugged, but Sarah laughed. 

“Bucky, this is my artist, remember?”

Bucky grinned. “I do,” he replied and looked at Steve. “You put the stars and planets and nebulas on my ceiling.”

Steve’s face looked surprised. “I did. Does it keep you up at night? I used to lie awake thinking of things I would change about it or things I should have painted instead.”

“No, I don’t think it makes me feel the way it makes you feel. I’m just a spectator, not the artist.”

“Then what you feel is what matters,” Steve explained. “The response of the viewer is the one that matters.”

“It reminds me I’m small and the universe is so big and there’s so much out there that we’re all insignificant.”

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

BUCKY

Steve was downstairs with his mother, so Bucky thought there was no better time than the present to finish the longer list of things he would need in order to be able to get his own place.

“Besides money,” he muttered to himself as he typed the list’s title into his phone.

1- towels & washcloths  
2- personal sheets & pillow  
3- register to vote (need address...)  
4- résumé  
5- job  
6- transfer bank account  
7- kitchen supplies (plates, bowls, pot, pans, utensils)  
8- vacuum/swiffer  
9- dresser  
10- better tablet 

He stopped after ten when he realized that there was a strong possibility he could go on forever with the various things he would need to furnish an apartment, and a better tablet was not a necessity. 

He turned his ear towards the door a little. He could hear Sarah and Steve talking downstairs, and a part of him wished he had stayed after lunch. Sarah had invited him to stay, made it clear he was more than welcome, and Steve had told him in three different ways to please not allow his presence to keep Bucky away, but there was something about Steve that was making Bucky uneasy, and he had no desire to stick around and figure out what it was. If anything, it only made Bucky determined to get out of Sarah’s home even faster.

Bucky wasn’t a small man, but he wasn’t as active as he had been before losing his arm, and he knew full well that he’d never be able to take Steve in a tussle. Bucky sat up straighter when he caught himself thinking of fighting Steve. There was no reason to fight Steve. Steve hadn’t shown any signs of aggression or said anything provocative toward him, and suddenly the idea that Bucky had even considered having to fight Steve seemed absurd, even to him. 

Still, something in the back of Bucky’s mind wouldn’t leave it alone. He didn’t want to completely close his door, because it would mean he couldn’t hear the voices well enough if they moved, but he didn’t want to turn his back to the door either.

Steve’s voice didn’t sound familiar and he didn’t act as if he knew the first thing about Bucky, yet Bucky had this haunting feeling that he’d seen him somewhere before. And besides that, his mind kept telling him the association was bad. 

It seemed bizarre at best. The care center where Bucky had been hiding and recovering in Indianapolis was strictly for victims of domestic violence. They were part of a vetted and tested network that reportedly had been in operation for over two decades. Sarah Rogers’ brownstone had been one of their “launch homes” for sixteen of those years. He knew all of this information. He’d even been allowed to talk to one of the women who had previously stayed with Sarah and claimed she was this great person, and Bucky had no reason to doubt that. He wished he had asked her more about Steve. Had she felt uneasy about Steve too?

Years ago, when Bucky had been eleven or twelve, he had gone to the supermarket with his mother and younger sister. They lived in a small town and had used the same locally owned grocery store his entire life. There had been a man at the store, a cashier there, who always made small talk with Bucky and his sister that indirectly caused his mother to give him the best advice she would ever give him. He had told her after leaving the store one day that he didn’t know why, but the man had always made him feel uncomfortable and his mother had said solidly, “I don’t think there’s anything to be concerned about. He’s been a kind man to us for years. However,” she had continued, and he remembered her saying the last part as if she had said it only a minute ago instead of over twenty years, “Trust your instincts.”

Almost as if she had just told him those words in that instant, Bucky stood up and walked as quietly as possible to the door of the bedroom. He couldn’t make out the conversation downstairs, so he moved out of the bedroom and to the edge of the stairwell. Sound traveled up it fairly well, he’d noticed, and it proved true enough for him to hear Sarah and Steve conversing down below.

“-and you’d mentioned he was here,” Steve said. “That’s not the same.”

Sarah’s voice wasn’t unkind, but it was firmer than Bucky had heard her speak before. “Steven, you will not lay a finger on that man. You stay away from him. He’s supposed to be safe here.”

Hair stood up on Bucky’s neck and his skin prickled down his arms and legs.

What did she mean “supposed to be” as if Steve posed some kind of threat? If Steve posed a threat, wouldn’t it be Sarah’s job to keep him away from guests or to withdraw from the refuge network?

Bucky felt sick as he made himself hurry back to his new bedroom on quiet, socked feet. As he made it back inside and closed the door behind him, he locked it. His eyes drifted up to the ceiling, and suddenly Steve’s art felt vast and ominous.


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember names over the sections are only to say which character the section is focused on, not a section from their POV.
> 
> **TW: Brief mention of Orlando Pulse shooting.**

2

BUCKY

Applying for jobs with huge gaps in your work history, no recent employment, and only two references - one of which is your landlady - did not make for a great résumé. Bucky found that out very quickly when he applied for no less than twenty jobs and got calls back from precisely none of them.

“I have a degree in computer science and this city has tons of openings for those jobs, and the market is growing every day, but no one is going to risk their company data to someone they don’t trust or see as reliable,” Bucky lamented three weeks later over lunch. 

It was Sunday again, but Bucky had quite contentedly missed Steve three Sundays in a row and this one wasn’t even his fault. Sarah had reported that Steve was away on business and it would be just the two of them, which Bucky was grateful for, but didn’t voice. As long as Steve wasn’t around, Bucky could keep busy enough to push the man from his mind entirely.

“You did put me down as a reference, right?” Sarah checked as she forked a roasted potato.

“I did. And the director of the shelter in Indianapolis, but that’s all. I didn’t put in any work I did in Indiana. I put the work I did here, but it’s been years so that’s probably hurting me. I just don’t want to put the Indiana work and have them call former employers and it somehow get out that I’m here, you know? In case that information spreads.” Bucky stabbed two potatoes with considerably more force than Sarah had used.

“No, I understand that. No point in putting yourself at unnecessary risk. Right now, I think you should keep trying.”

“Do you think it’s a bad idea to apply for an entry level job somewhere just to have some kind of income?” Bucky asked.

“I can’t say. That’s a decision you’ll have to make for yourself. I don’t know the kind of income you’re expecting you’ll need or the amount of money you have to live on right now. I do think having a current employer may look good on a more important application.”

Bucky swallowed a mouthful. “Having a current employer will look better on my résumé while looking for the career I want? Is that what you’re saying? Rather than not having an employer for many years?”

“Probably,” she replied. “It’s a more recent reference, and someone they can call about your work ethic and your attitude and timeliness. You know, those little things employers always care about.”

Bucky pursed his lips. “I’ll see what I can do. There’s probably something. I definitely don’t have enough money. I only bought one towel and most people have a set. Can’t move into a new place with one towel.”

Sarah smiled warmly. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re actively thinking about getting your own place, but you’ve been here less than a month, Bucky. There’s no hurry for you to rush out and get your own place just to say you have one or that you’ve reached some step in this process. Take your time. Get it right. Make sure you’re happy with your decisions.”

Bucky promised and finished the rest of his food silently before offering to put the dishes in the washer. Sarah handed them over while she boxed up the leftovers.

—⍟-⍟-⍟—

STEVE

“Yes, Mr. Congressman. There is an estimation. Currently, the reported percentage of LGBTQ individuals in our nation is between 3.5 and 5%. However,” Steve rushed to add, “I caution you or anyone against accepting those numbers as absolute fact considering that those being polled may be reluctant to provide accurate information-“

“Are you saying the gay community is prone to lying, Mr. Rogers?” the congressman across from Steve asked quickly as if he had found some kind of fault in Steve’s entire mission.

“No Sir. Please let me finish.” Steve licked his lips subconsciously and looked the man in the eye. “Those polled may be unwilling to provide accurate information based on the way it was obtained. Polls are precarious things. If those being polled were in the company of others they wished to hide their sexual orientation or identity from, they may not be inclined to answer honestly and would instead answer with the response those around them would find most agreeable. This especially applies if one were with family members who may be disapproving, or if one lives in a very religious community or anything of that nature. It isn’t to say that those who reported themselves as a part of the LGBTQ community are falsely reporting themselves, but others may be reluctant to come forward and properly identify themselves based on various circumstances.”

The congressman pursed his lips and said nothing for a second, and Steve looked to where Sam was sitting. Sam was watching Steve with eagle eyes, ready to help him if he faltered, but Steve rarely was at a loss for words when it came to fighting for something he believed in.

Riley sat beside Sam silently taking notes of who Steve spoke directly to and the exact topics that were addressed. The House of Representatives didn’t allow cell phones or cameras, so any time they found themselves in the capital, they knew it was back to the classic paper and pen method. Actually, Riley was using a pencil in case he made any mistakes. (Sam would call his entire handwriting a mistake, but Riley had learned to tune him out over the years.)

The congressman clearly wasn’t on Steve’s side in this ordeal. 

“And you’re suggesting that America is still so repressed as a country that individuals would still have a hard time coming forward to be honest about their sexualities and preferences? Despite the fact that there are no punishments or laws against them anymore?”

“Absolutely,” Steve countered. “I’m afraid that the United States still has a very long way to go to truly liberate the LGBTQ community. Yes, America has legalized gay marriage, but Mr. Congressman, if you’ll remember, even when that law was passed, many local authorities refused to issue marriage licenses to those seeking to marry same-sex partners. Churches refused to hold the ceremonies. A law being passed is only the first step in making a place more equal and more accepting. There are still many, many things holding the LGBTQ community back. If there weren’t, I would not be standing here in front of you today.”

“Holding you back?” the congressman laughed. “But you can marry whoever you’d like, you can work any job, you can speak in the House, you can have your own parade.”

A few others around the room laughed, but Steve just worked his jaw a moment and waited for the sound to die down before responding. 

“Yes, we can stand in Congress. We can have our own parades. We can still be fired from our jobs; we can still be barred from including our spouses on employer-provided insurance; we can still be prohibited from adopting children, and we can still be gunned down in a mass hate crime while we’re just trying to dance with our friends in a nightclub.” Steve took a deep breath and looked out at the faces of the other representatives around the room. “We are only here to discuss providing more protections for one small area of people’s lives: housing protections, the right to keep someone from living in a certain home or to evict someone from their home based on gender identity or sexual orientation is not a right at all, but a way for those who wish to hinder or cause harm the LGBTQ community to wax their power over them through currently legal discrimination. I am here to ask each and every one of you to consider your constituents who put you here to represent them, and to vote with the knowledge that some of those constituents are facing this problem as we speak. We put you here to represent us, all of us, not just the select few, and now is your chance to do just that and make this nation a better and safer and more hospitable place for all of us.”

When Steve finally finished addressing everyone he looked wobbly on his feet, and Sam steadied him the moment he walked over to their chairs. Riley slid down a seat and so did Sam, so Steve sat on the end and rubbed his temples as he placed his elbows on the table and held his head a moment.

Sam dug through the side pocket on Steve’s satchel and pulled out a roll of Lifesavers and handed them to him.

“I think you did pretty good,” he murmured. “Made some good points.”

“Thanks,” Steve answered as he took the Lifesavers and popped one into his mouth.

“Thank you,” Riley said quietly. “I know I’m not gonna make up for your mom, but lunch is on me after this.”

Steve laughed, but didn’t look up. “That was yesterday.”

“Still.”

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

BUCKY 

One look at the sign on the door and Bucky took a deep breath and walked in through the open bay door. 

“Help you, Sir?” one of the workers asked almost immediately. 

Bucky blinked a few times, trying to adjust to not having the sun in his face.

“What kind of help are you looking for?” he asked, motioning to the sign on the door. “Could I set up an interview or give someone my résumé?”

The man wiped his brow with his arm and kind of shrugged as he pointed.

“Boss’s in the office.”

“Thank you.”

Bucky walked toward the office and knocked on the door, but it swung open after only the second time his fingers hit the wood.

“Oh,” the man inside only said without explanation. “You need a signature or somethin’?”

“No Sir. I wanted to inquire about the ‘Help Wanted’ sign on the door. I grew up helping my dad in a shop like this one.”

“You look too prim to know much about mechanics,” the man replied gruffly.

Bucky thought about how proud he had been to have done his hair so nicely in a french braid this morning.

“I’m not,” he replied adamantly. “If you’ll give me an interview, we can discuss it and I’ll do my best to prove it to you.”

“Interview?” the man asked as a car pulled into the nearest bay. “Just show me what you’ve got.” He nodded towards the car that had just pulled up. “Go diagnose that car and decide how to fix it.”

Bucky turned around and looked at the car.

“May I talk to the customer?” he asked.

The man made a gesture to go ahead, so Bucky turned and approached the woman getting out of her vehicle.

“Good afternoon. What can I help you with today?”

The woman looked around the grimy shop a bit uneasily. She was wearing nice clothes and looked like she probably had a nice, clean office job somewhere.

“I, um, made an appointment about this strange noise I keep hearing. It sounds like this little rattle whenever I’m letting off the gas.”

“Rattling, okay,” Bucky answered. “Can you describe this rattling? Where it’s coming from?”

“I don’t know where it’s coming from except beneath the car, I think. It sounds like there’s a screw or something loose and it’s just jostling around in there.”

Bucky nodded. “I have some ideas. Would you mind getting back in and turning the car on and just- keep it in park, but just rev the engine a little, and see if it’ll make the sound again so I can hear it?”

Bucky was a little nervous, so he watched the woman get back into her car instead of turning to see if the shop owner was watching him as closely as he imagined he was.

The woman started her engine again, and Bucky crouched down beside the passenger door of the car as she stepped on the accelerator. As expected, the rattling sound was clearly heard, even over the other sounds in the shop. 

Bucky stood back up and was surprised to see the shop owner had stepped up to stand beside him. He jolted a little, but tried to act casual as he turned to him.

“Catalytic converter’s bad. It’s broken inside and she’s not gonna like that price tag,” Bucky confirmed to the man. “But I can fix it for her.”

“You better break the bad news to her,” the man replied, and Bucky stepped up toward the driver’s side of the vehicle while the woman got back out and closed the door.

“Ma’am,” Bucky began, wincing as soon as he said it. Some woman didn’t appreciate that term, he knew, but it was too late to take it back now. “What I’m pretty sure we’re dealing with here is a catalytic converter gone bad. They usually last the life of the car, but not always. Sometimes, you can drive over somethin’ or be involved in an accident of some kind and it can lead to this, but the most common cause is bad fuel. You get some wrong fuel in there that doesn’t burn properly for this kind of vehicle, and instead of burning through the fuel, it just burns through the, uh, the mechanism inside the cat converter.” 

Bucky brought up both of his hands in front of him to explain, and only realized he was using them when the woman’s eye caught on his prosthetic. Bucky tried not to let it bother him. He told himself anyone would look at a hand that was gesturing in front of them whether that hand was metal or not.

“The mechanism inside a catalytic converter looks kind of like a...” He paused and made a grimace as he considered his words. “I wanna say like a mesh, but that’s not right. Like a strainer kind of, in a kitchen. Or, like a honeycomb, kinda, with all these little holes in it. But it filters all the harmful stuff being made by your car and turns it into mostly harmless exhaust, so it’s a good thing and you wanna replace it as soon as you can, or it does end up leading to all kinds of other problems.”

The woman looked amused, and when Bucky saw her smile he looked at her with a sheepish face. 

“Too much?” he asked, dropping his arms by his sides.

“Oh no,” she laughed. “I just think this is the first time I have ever had car trouble where a man has taken the time to explain to me the problem instead of just telling me the name of the damaged part and then quoting me the price to fix it.”

“Well, you deserve to know what’s going on with your own vehicle. Now, the good news is we can fix it. The bad news is, we do still have to quote you a price, and these can be kind of steep because the part costs so much in itself.” Bucky licked his lips and angled his body back toward the shop owner. “But when it comes to prices, I’m going to have to let you speak with this gentleman over here.”

The shop owner gave Bucky a small nod and walked with the customer back into his office. The small window in the door didn’t leave a lot for Bucky to watch, so he turned back and observed the other men at work for a few minutes until the door opened again. The customer didn’t walk back out, but walked from the office up into the attached seating area where a few other customers lingered.

“Did you want me to fix it for her, Sir?” Bucky asked as soon as the shop owner stepped out of the office. 

“Someone will have to run and pick up the proper part. I’ll get one of the guys to do it,” he assured as he turned back to Bucky. “Castle! Luke! Need someone who’s not busy to run to the parts place.” He turned back to Bucky with a positive expression. “I’ve got some paperwork to do for our newest employee, Mr. uhh...?”

“Bucky Barnes.” Bucky smiled. “Thank you, Sir.”

“It’s all on real paper,” the man mentioned as he stepped back into the office and motioned for Bucky to follow him. “Did you bring a pen?” 

“Yes, Sir.”

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

STEVE

Flying into LaGuardia always made Steve close his eyes. He would happily speak to the nation’s leaders, lead protests, and pose for magazines, but when it came time for a plane to land, especially on that runway, Steve’s stomach was always in knots. 

Sam and Riley exchanged looks as they silently laughed while Steve locked his hands together and gripped them tightly. He had seen the reports of airplanes going straight off the end of the runway and into the river. He had no desire to ever recreate any such moments in his own life.

When the plane stopped rolling and he hesitantly opened his eyes again, he caught Sam and Riley laughing at him from across the aisle.

“Fuck you. I hate the Hudson,” Steve snipped at his friends, earning him a cold look from an older lady in the seat in front of Riley’s, and making his friends snicker even more.

“Sure, blame the river,” Sam mocked.

“You know I always book flights to this airport to see you do that, right?” Riley asked as the announcements started overhead. Steve sat unmoving. His heart was still beating abnormally, and everyone around him had stood anyway so he doubted he was getting off the aircraft anytime soon. “Did you decide if we’re taking a day or if we’re doing that art show in SoHo tomorrow?” 

Steve looked up at Riley who was standing, despite not being able to go anywhere. 

“They’ve asked us to be there so I figure I’ll be there at least,” he answered. “You guys can decide tomorrow if you’re feeling up to it.”

“We can always drop by,” Sam answered. “Don’t have to stay for the whole event.”

Steve turned his phone off airplane mode and waited until the signal reconnected before texting his mom that he was back safely in New York.

“I did RSVP for three plates,” he commented, without looking up. “So if you decide not to attend, let me know in time so I can grab my mom or Carol or someone.”

“Will do, Captain,” Riley answered as he turned around. He reached over his and Sam’s heads and started pulling down luggage for people as the announcements went off and the talking around them got louder.

“You wanna grab dinner somewhere or you wiped out?” Sam asked, angling to see past Riley’s body that was in his way.

“You askin’ me or him?” Steve asked, before glancing up and seeing Sam looking back at him. “I’m fine if it’s something fast. I’ve gotta pick up Moxie from Sharon.”

“Let’s just order take out from somewhere. I’m too beat to cook today.”

Riley laughed. “You’re always like this after DC.” He turned to Steve without lowering his volume. “You take a few days talking to politicians and this guy is acting like he can’t function.” He handed Sam his bag with a pointed, “I told you, sitting in offices and buying lunches for men in suits is a mental wipe and an emotional wipe. It isn’t a physical wipe. You can still move.”

“ _You’re_ an ass wipe,” Sam grumbled, but Riley just laughed.

The lady in the seat ahead of Riley’s shot Steve another sharp look as if he had said something else she didn’t like, so Steve lowered his voice and warned the others, “Let’s watch our language right now.”

The other men lowered their voices, and Riley sat down with his own bag and turned to Steve. “He always goes straight home and straight to bed. Barely stops to brush his teeth.”

“I told you. I am old,” Sam argued quietly. “I can’t tap that every night.”

Steve shook his head and the teenagers in the seat behind him giggled.

“God, it must be nice not being single.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you! More tomorrow!


	3. Part Three

BUCKY 

Bucky was on the stairs heading down to the first floor when his phone rang. He was far enough down them that he could see Sarah sitting on the sofa watching _Ellen._ He had been coming to join her. (It was a simple pleasure he was finding he liked indulging in.)

He answered the unknown number and turned around, stepping back up the other steps to the landing so his voice wouldn’t carry as far and interrupt her. He kept his volume low. He was sure she could still hear him, but he also knew it was a private call and he listened to the voice on the other end of the line.

“I don’t- I don’t have it,” Bucky said into the phone after a minute. “Not here. I just moved here.”

He gripped his phone tighter as the man on the other end of the line kept speaking.

“I thought I-“ Bucky stopped. The tension in his voice changed a little. “I thought you said if my criminal record came back clear-“ 

The man interrupted. 

“Yes, Sir. I- I don’t have one. I don’t even have the money for one.” Bucky looked up at the ceiling trying to blink back tears. “It shouldn’t matter. I proved to you I could do it. I’ll do it again if you’ll let me, please.”

He paused as the other man said something again, and then Bucky spoke more brokenly into the phone. 

“Is this really about my arm?”

His responses turned more terse and his hand gripped the phone tighter after that until he simply said, “Yeah,” and hung up.

He sat there a second with the phone still in his hand, just staring at the cracked screen in disbelief. Then, before he even registered what he was doing, he was yelling out an angry sound as he kicked the bottom of the wall and threw his phone down the stairs and onto the hardwood floor.

Sarah jumped at the loud clatter.

Bucky ran his fingers through his hair and pulled at handfuls of it as he sank to his knees.

Sarah didn’t show up immediately, but a minute later, she was at the foot of the stairs, gently asking, “Bucky?”

Bucky didn’t look up. “I’m sorry,” he managed, and his voice sounded broken. “I’ll fix your wall.”

“The wall isn’t my top concern.”

Bucky let go of his hair and looked up, and when he did, his eyes were wet and red-rimmed. Sarah glanced to see where the wall had a cracked area and dent in it from Bucky’s shoe.

“Why don’t you come talk to me? What happened?” she encouraged. She held her hand out toward him. She had to leave it there in the air for a moment before Bucky dropped his arms and dragged himself to his feet again.

He trudged down the stairs, but he did actually take her hand, and he realized the simple touch drained some of the anger out of him.

She motioned for him to pick up his phone, so he did as she passed him and sat back down where she was a few minutes before. She muted the television and Bucky took the other end of the sofa. He sat rigidly with his shoulders hunched, his feet flat on the floor, and his hair hanging in his face. It stuck out messily thanks to him pulling on it, but it hid his expression all the same.

It took several minutes before Bucky could bring himself to speak.

“I lost the job,” he said quietly. He didn’t look up.

Sarah sighed quietly. “Did they say why?”

“Some other fucking asshole showed up with an auto mechanics license or certificate or whatever from a school and I don’t have one.”

She nodded. “Is it required?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Did you remind him that he had already told you you had the job?”

“Kind of,” Bucky groaned. He let himself fall backwards against the back of the sofa and looked up at the ceiling. “I told him he said if my record came back clear, I could have it, and he said that was before someone with a certificate came in.”

She reached out her hand to him and he looked at her with confusion, so she dropped it gently onto the cushion between them.

“I wasn’t thinking. I do that for Steve when he’s upset,” she said, and her voice sounded almost as if she were confused at her own action.

Bucky just nodded and sat there quietly until Sarah coaxed more out of him. “Do you wanna talk about the anger?”

Bucky’s voice was so quiet when he said, “No.”

Sarah swallowed and pressed her lips together, never taking her eyes off of Bucky.

“I’ll fix it,” he said a moment later, voice still strained. It was obvious he was fighting back tears, and it was also obvious that Sarah wanted him to unpack the situation, but he sat there perfectly silent except for his occasional deep breaths to keep himself in check.

“I’m angry that I need a job and can’t get one,” he finally said. “And I’m angry I can’t get one and I don’t feel like it’s my fault. And that’s not fair.”

He knew he was too old to believe everything should always be fair, but this felt particularly targeted.

“It’s not,” Sarah agreed to try to keep him talking. 

“And I’m angry that I already bought the clothes I would need for this job. They said I could start tomorrow. I was ready. And now I’m out that money when I really didn’t have that much to spare in the first place, but I needed them and I thought it would pay off.”

Sarah nodded. 

He didn’t offer anymore, so Sarah adjusted herself on the sofa, pulling her legs up onto the cushioned seat to fold them beneath her.

“Do you know why people get angry, Bucky?”

“Lack of control?” he guessed after a second.

“That’s a contributing factor.” Sarah looked at Bucky with soft eyes. 

He sat back up straighter and crossed his arms in front of himself. 

“People get angry because they feel hurt. The first response is always hurt. Not physical, but emotional. And then the following anger is a protective response that the mind has when it feels vulnerable. So, yes, pain that makes you feel like you lack control makes you insecure, and therefore, in an effort to protect yourself, you lash out in anger. Often, that’s why physical fights feel like simple retaliation. It’s just protecting yourself. But a physical hurt is accompanied by an emotional one, even if it’s not always recognized.”

“I feel weak. And helpless,” he whined, and Sarah hated the sound of someone whining in earnest instead of the bratty whining most people used. A whine from someone deeply hurt was always felt in a deeper place inside her.

“I know,” she answered understandingly. “And that hurts a lot.”

“I’ve been helpless enough,” Bucky admitted, and it was on that final word that his voice cracked and two tears raced down his cheeks. “I’ve been hurt enough.”

“You have.”

“That’s what I’m running from,” he said after a moment. “If I still wanted to be helpless, I’d still be there.” He laughed a dark, sarcastic huff at himself. “I never wanted to be helpless.”

Sarah shook her head empathetically.

“When I was with Jack,” Bucky said, and it was the first time Sarah had heard the name of Bucky’s abuser. “When I was with him, it started out fine, good even. And then over time, it just became about controlling every aspect of me. I couldn’t go out with my sister on Tuesdays to see movies without him. My sister and I always went to the movies every Tuesday that we could to see the matinée films because they’re only like seven dollars that night. And he started not letting me go unless he came. And then he wouldn’t let me go at all, said it was a waste of money, even though it was cheap and it was my money. And he started controlling what I wore. That sounds like such a girl thing to control, but certain pants were suddenly too tight, and I couldn’t wear shirts that rode up if I raised my arms, and he said some things made me look cheap. Anything he thought might make me attractive to someone else. Which makes no sense, because after a while he stopped touching me too-“ Bucky sucked in a shaky breath. “Not like, not to hit me, just to make me feel wanted, just sexually.” He blinked his red eyes over to make sure Sarah was okay with that being mentioned, but she didn’t look remotely fazed by it except to meet his eye and nod a bit of encouragement.

Bucky licked his lips and looked down at his lap, unfolding his arms to run a hand along the seam of his jeans.

“I want to feel wanted somewhere,” he confessed.

“You will be. You just have to give it time and find the right fit. You can’t just go trying to make situations work for you that aren’t meant to. You have to wait and find yourself someone who wants you for you, who values you not for what you can do for them, but because of who you are as a person. You have to make sure they want you, not want to control you, and not want to pass you along the minute a better option shows up. You have to find someone who thinks you are the best option out there.”

“I get the feeling we’re not talking about the job anymore.”

“Anything,” Sarah answered. “That’s in any situation.”

Bucky swallowed and nodded a bit.

“You know, I worked at this software company at the time and Jack wanted me to quit work. And I’d already stopped going out with my sister or friends, and work was my only outlet left really because I wasn’t allowed to buy things in stores. Everything had to be ordered online and approved by him. So work was the only thing left and he wanted me to quit. Said there was too much to do at home, and said they didn’t appreciate me enough at work anyway. I’d had a chance for a promotion and it went to the other guy who honestly was a great candidate and had seniority so I understood.” Bucky seemed to realize he was rambling and he looked over at Sarah. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“If you find yourself telling someone something and you don’t know why, subconsciously, you probably had a need for it to be known.” Sarah picked up a mug beside her and took a drink. “I’m listening if you want to keep telling me.”

Bucky took a breath and slipped off his shoes by stepping on the backs of each one with the opposite foot, then he crossed his legs up on the sofa.

“Where was I?”

“He didn’t want you to go to work. You’d been passed over for a promotion.”

“Yeah, but like, I didn’t feel like I had really been ‘passed over’ in the sense that it was owed to me. It was most likely going to go to the other guy anyway, and I didn’t feel undervalued or anything. They were being very kind even considering me because I hadn’t been there anywhere as long as the other candidate and he was a great worker. But that’s not the point. The point is that Jack didn’t want me to keep working there, and when I wouldn’t quit my job, he went into the closet while I was in the shower and he cut up all of my work clothes. We had uniform shirts and dress pants that I had spent quite a bit of money on. He even cut up my leather shoes. And then he sat there in front of me later, with this sick grin on his face, as I called into work with tears in my eyes and made up some lie about being sick so I couldn’t come in. And I quit over the phone a few days later. And that job- they had always been good to me. They didn’t deserve that.”

 _“You_ didn’t deserve that.”

Bucky felt tears fall again and he wiped them with his sleeve as Sarah reached over and snatched him a tissue from the Kleenex box. He took it with a wet, “Thanks,” and Bucky realized that the tissues were strategically placed because he wasn’t the first houseguest to have a breakdown in that spot.

“We got into an argument about me going places not too long after that. Jack slit my tires and smashed all the windows of my car with a baseball bat.”

Bucky cocked his head a little like that was a particularly interesting memory for some reason.

“Neighbors watched us scream and watched him do that. Never called the police.”

Sarah nodded. “I remember there being times when Joseph and I would have an incident in public and I would be thinking, ‘Somebody do something,’ and no one ever did. It’s amazing how much people are willing to look past and ignore to avoid causing trouble.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed. “The physical abuse didn’t happen until later, but it’s like for some reason I just saw every sign of him getting worse and more controlling, and I never thought it would actually happen. I thought if I could just make him happy in this area of our lives or just do this one extra thing to make him happy, then everything would be fine and we would be happy together.” Bucky shrugged and looked at his lap. “Sounds stupid now.”

“No,” Sarah replied. “Just sounds like someone who wanted a happy relationship with someone they cared about.”

“He didn’t care about me.” Bucky’s voice was strong and adamant all of a sudden, and his hand came down to cup at his knee. “He never cared about me.”

“And you deserve better than that.”

Bucky nodded. He’d had enough therapy sessions to logically realize that now even if his feelings and emotional bullshit sometimes got in the way.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “And I deserved that job too.”

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

STEVE

Steve came over later that evening with a half-eaten bagel in hand, a corner store bouquet of flowers for his mother, and a box of raspberry mint tea under his arm.

Bucky realized it was easy to excuse himself after the breakdown he had had earlier that day. Sarah understood and had told him goodnight early, so Bucky had been in his room for the duration of Steve’s visit.

Steve and Sarah had already finished dinner and retired to the living room when Steve glanced up the stairs and saw the damage left by Bucky’s earlier outburst.

“What happened to the wall?”

“We had a little situation. It’s been dealt with,” Sarah replied, sipping some of the new tea from a metal tumbler. 

“What kind of situation?” Steve pried. “The wall needs to be redone!”

Sarah brought her hand up to quiet her son. “It’s not a big deal. It’s about Bucky, so I’m not going to discuss it with you.”

Steve was only half listening as he made his way up the stairs to the landing and knelt down to inspect the damage.

“Was this kicked?” he asked, running his hand over a part of the drywall.

“Steve,“ Sarah warned. “I’m not discussing this with you.”

Steve stood up again with his brows knitted and hurried back down to his mother.

“Is he really safe for you to house him here? I mean, if he kicked the wall, how are you to know how violent he can be?”

“Steve-“

“Maybe he would be better at a place for men where someone else would be better equipped to take him on if he got out of hand or-“

“Steven,” Sarah snapped. “Bucky is my guest. I have promised to protect him to the best of my ability.”

“What about protecting yourself? He’s not stable if he’s kicking walls. What’s next?”

“Outbursts are a normal part of recovery, Steven,” she said more quietly than she had spoken her previous words. “Bucky is my guest and he is here as he heals, and as such, he will be treated with respect. Anyone I have ever shared this house with could have injured me if they wanted. It’s an easy enough thing to do.”

She motioned for Steve to take the same seat she had had Bucky take earlier that day. She reached out the hand that wasn’t holding her mug and Steve took it.

“Something happened this afternoon,” she told him easily. “It upset Bucky, and he kicked the wall and threw and broke his phone, so we talked about it. He sat right there and we had a long talk about it and dissected the situation. Does it mean he won’t do it again? No. But recovery isn’t a light switch. You can’t turn on the switch and be recovered, so at least, if he does it again, he’ll understand his anger and why he’s reacting the way that he is.”

Steve dropped his and his mother’s hands onto the sofa.

“Yeah, but what if he kicks you next time instead of the wall?”

“Bucky is angry. Bucky is hurt. And he is coping the best he can. If I feel unsafe, I’ll handle that issue when it arises. I feel fine.” She shook their hands a bit good-naturedly. “I’m fine.”

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

BUCKY 

Bucky was halfway through putting a screen protector over his cracked phone the next morning when he heard the noise. 

He paused, then hurriedly pressed the screen protector the rest of the way down onto the phone’s cracked surface and threw his phone to the side of his bed before heading out the bedroom door to investigate. He hurried two flights of stairs down, glancing for what had caused the noise as he went, and when he reached the lowest landing, he looked down to the bottom level.

Bucky’s heart skipped a beat.

There, crumpled sideways at the bottom of the stairs, lay Sarah.

Socked feet pounded down the stairs after her. “Sarah?” he asked. “Are you okay? What happened?” He reached to move her, then thought better of it. 

Sarah was drawing ragged breaths and blood was pooling around her head from somewhere. 

Bucky cursed under his breath. “Hang on.”

He spun on his heel and raced back up to his bedroom, grabbing the phone he’d just tossed aside, and calling 9-1-1.

Emergency personnel showed up not even ten minutes later, and Bucky let them in the front door and motioned frantically to where Sarah was lying.

“She fell. I- I was scared to move her,” he reported. The EMTs just asked when she fell and if Bucky was her son.

“Shit! No. I’m not. I don’t know how to get in touch with him.”

Someone tried to calm Bucky while they stabilized Sarah on a gurney in a contraption Bucky had only seen on TV before. It didn’t let her move much of anything as they started taking her out the door. 

She looked at Bucky following along a step behind the EMTs. He could tell the blood he saw on the ground earlier was coming from around her ear and he cringed.

“By the phone,” she rasped, and one of the techs leaned in. 

“What’s that, Ms. Rogers?”

“By the phone,” she tried again, voice no stronger than before, but she was looking directly at Bucky.

“By the phone?” the technician asked, turning to Bucky. “What’s by the phone?”

“I don’t know.” Bucky’s hands came up in an awkward, helpless motion. He had nearly forgotten Sarah even had a home phone. It didn’t ever ring, but he had seen it sitting there, just between the kitchen and the front foyer. He turned and raced back toward the small counter space where it was kept and saw what Sarah must have been referring to. A little piece of paper, half the size of the average Post-It note, was taped down to the countertop beside the phone.

Bucky squinted at it and understood. He raced back outside as they were closing the doors to the ambulance.

“Tell her I’ll call Steve!” he told the EMT about to close the door. “Please tell her I’m calling her son!”

The tech only nodded back and closed the doors. Bucky watched the ambulance disappear, and then sped back up the walkway and into the house.

He’d never been there without Sarah home as well. It felt odd to be there alone. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and noticed the air bubbles trapped under the screen protector he’d hastily pressed to the surface.

He didn’t have time to worry about it now. Bucky tapped Steve’s number into his phone as he read it from the note taped to the counter and waited as the phone rang.

“This is Steve. Leave me a message-“ 

Bucky groaned loudly and bared his teeth, as if either reaction would suddenly make Steve answer his phone.

He heard the tone indicating him to record a message and he took a deep breath. His chest felt tight.

“Steve, this is Bucky, the guy staying at your mom’s house right now. Your mom’s been hurt and- and, uh, I had to call an ambulance for her. An EMT said she was going to, uh, Maimonides. And- and- and I don’t know where that is, but I’m about to look it up and head there. She told me to call you. Okay, bye.”

Bucky hung up before he could think to leave Steve his number, so he hoped it was a cell phone he had dialed in case Steve called back. He shoved his phone back into his pocket, hurried to the front door, and found his shoes in the coat closet.

Bucky slid on his shoes and opened the front door before it occurred to him that he didn’t have a key. He hesitated. 

He huffed and kicked at the brick beneath his foot, but his rubber shoe just bounced his foot back at him. He didn’t have time for this. He locked the door, and pulled it closed, and dug out his phone to look up the address.

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

STEVE

The hospital lobby was bright and clean when Steve arrived. Everyone around seemed to be going about their day as if everything were fine, but Steve was sure it was anything but.

“I can tell you that your mother is being evaluated. She is in stable condition. She is conscious and alert, and will be able to talk to you after the assessment, but she will have to stay with us a while. She claims she slipped while-“

“‘Claims?’” Steve echoed. “Do you not believe her? Did someone do this to her?”

“Mr. Rogers,” the nurse calmed. “She is still being evaluated, but so far, we have no reason to believe she isn’t being honest with us. Her injuries are consistent with a natural, accidental fall down the stairs. Do you have reason to believe she may not be safe in her home?”

“She’s living with someone I don’t know very well,” Steve admitted. “I know he had an angry outburst recently. I-“ He shrugged and the nurse nodded. 

“At this time, we feel your mother is being truthful in her story. If that changes when we get further into the assessment, it will be addressed at that time.”

Steve nodded. “Thank you.”

“We know so far that she has some detached vertebrae and torn ligaments. At least two slipped disks and most likely damage to her spinal cord. I cannot at this time tell you the extent of this injury, but I assure you Dr. Banner is doing his very best for her.”

Steve nodded, trying to process.

“If you’ll be here, we will let you know more as soon as doctors are able to get x-rays and an MRI.”

“I’ll be here,” Steve nodded quickly. “I’ll be right here.”

He turned around and looked into the waiting room. In the corner chair, with his feet pulled up into the seat with him, sat Bucky, and he was watching Steve.

He waved, and Steve thought he looked hesitant so Steve approached just as hesitantly.

“Is she okay?” Bucky asked.

“They don’t know yet,” Steve answered curtly. “What happened?”

“I don’t know exactly,” Bucky said with a shrug and looked at his bent knees. “I was in my room and I heard this strange noise. Came out and found her at the bottom of the stairs. Called an ambulance.”

Steve pursed his lips, took the seat across from Bucky, and pulled out his phone, shooting off a quick message to Sam and Riley.

“Did they say when we would know something?” Bucky asked a minute later. 

“No.” Steve didn’t spare Bucky a glance and kept texting, so after a bit, Bucky went back to watching the news on the silent TV in the corner of the room.

Steve tried not to look at Bucky, but every now and then his eyes would wander up from his phone and he would catch Bucky watching him. The first two times, he considered it a coincidence. The third time, he gave Bucky a raised eyebrow. The fourth time, he lifted both of his hands in surrender.

“What?”

The tone was accusatory, and he only realized it when Bucky’s face displayed genuine fear for a second.

“I, uh, are you angry with me?” Bucky hated how he sounded asking. He was a full grown man, and somehow his voice sounded like he was nine years old again, and asking his father if he was going to be punished for picking another fight in school.

“I’m angry at a lot of things right now,” Steve answered, turning back to his phone.

“I did everything I knew how to,” Bucky continued, trying to find his voice again. “I didn’t touch her when I found her. I called 9-1-1. Then I called you like she asked. Is there something else you-“

“What happened, Bucky?” Steve asked, and Bucky’s eyebrows went up at the tone. 

“She fell down the stairs?” Bucky sounded genuinely confused, but he didn’t redirect any anger back toward Steve.

“She’s lived in that house for years and never had a problem with those stairs, but today she just fell?” Steve’s voice raised as he spoke. “She didn’t have help? You didn’t have another one of your temper tantrums and take it out on her?”

“Sir-“ a nurse at the desk nearby called out a warning, but Steve just shot the man an annoyed look.

“Oh my god.” Bucky looked taken aback. “You think I did it? You think I hurt her?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

“I found her!” Now Bucky’s voice was rising and he sat up straighter and put his feet back on the floor. “I was in my room trying to keep my phone from getting worse.” He held up the device with its cracked display and tempered glass cover. “And I heard her fall.” Bucky‘s face was getting more flushed and he shook some hair out of his face. “As for the ‘temper tantrum’ I had? I momentarily lost my cool over a situation out of my control. Do you think that’s maybe what _you’re_ doing now?”

Steve watched as Bucky stood up, pocketed his phone, and stalked out of the lobby, but he didn’t let his own anger go for several long minutes afterward.


	4. Part Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, beefy Steve still has some medical problems here.

BUCKY

The cafeteria closed and Bucky had moved to sit alone in the front lobby by the time he started wondering if Steve had left. He didn’t want to leave without checking on Sarah, but he also wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to without having to physically fight Steve out of his path. No one had asked him to vacate the lobby yet, but he was sure that once visiting hours were over, security would want him to move along.

The sun had long set outside, but somehow Bucky was so lost in thought that he didn’t realize it had gotten so late until a woman in a police uniform approached him and gently reminded him of guests needing to clear the hospital. Bucky must have had the look of a lost man because as he stood up to walk toward the exit, she placed a hand on his arm and asked, “You okay, Sir?”

“Yeah. Yes, ma’am,” Bucky managed. “Thank you.”

It was cold outside, but Bucky found a bench not terribly far from the entrance and pulled out his phone. Solitaire could numb anyone’s mind for at least an hour if they were avoiding facing reality. He opened the app and started a new game. 

His ears were cold first. And then his fingers. And then his nose was running and his hair wouldn’t stop blowing in his face. It was becoming harder to ignore the fact that he had to figure out something for his plans for the night. 

“Bucky?”

He jumped, simply startled at the voice.

“What are you still doing here?” Steve looked different now. He wasn’t as tense as he had been earlier, and he looked exhausted.

“How is she?” Bucky asked, choosing to ignore Steve’s question.

“She’s got a long recovery ahead of her,” Steve admitted, and he looked down at the sidewalk in front of his feet. “But the doctors and nurses don’t seem to be concerned about her otherwise. She’s on pain meds and something to help her sleep, and they’ve got her all trussed up so she doesn’t mess up her spine any more.”

Bucky nodded. “But she’s gonna be okay?”

“Yeah.” Steve reached and scratched the back of his head, and then kicked at the pavement a bit awkwardly. “Listen, uh, sorry for saying what I said about you in there. I was upset. I shouldn’t have ever jumped to those conclusions.”

“I wouldn’t hurt her.”

“I know. She keeps telling me that. Keeps telling me that you’re safe. Guess I should trust her.” Steve’s cheeks looked pink, but Bucky didn’t know if it was the cold wind or an outward display of his feelings.

“Everyone makes mistakes.” Bucky was beginning to feel pain in his fingers and toes from the cold.

“You eaten anything?” Steve asked. “I know it’s late, but I owe you an apology.”

“I’m fine,” Bucky answered. He didn’t have the extra money to go eat anywhere, but then he swallowed down his anxiety and asked the one question he needed to before Steve left.

“Could you let me in the house? I don’t have a key so I can’t get back inside.”

“Oh, shit, Buck, yeah,” Steve nodded and reached out his hand to help him up. “God, you should have said something.”

“Wasn’t sure you’d want to help,” Bucky admitted as he reached up and took Steve’s hand.

“I’ll get you a key,” Steve replied as he pulled Bucky to his feet. “You shouldn’t have to worry about that. Just remember to lock up when you’re going out and you can hang on to it. She usually gives people a key a month or so into their stay when she decides she can trust them.”

“I’ll give it back,” Bucky promised. An obvious shiver ran through his body. 

“Please let me buy you dinner. I’ve been an ass, and my mother threatened me that if I’m not nice to you she’s going to kick _my_ ass. And somehow, even though she’s about to be in serious physical therapy, I still believe she could do it. That ‘all bark and no bite’ rule does not apply to her.”

Bucky brushed some hair back behind his ear and Steve looked away.

“Something quick between here and the house and I’ll buy.”

“Why do you seem familiar to me? From before I moved here,” Bucky asked, suddenly adamant.

Steve’s eyes darted around confused and he shrugged. “Do you watch my YouTube channel? Or follow a lot of LGBTQ news?”

Bucky shook his head. “Did you go to NYU?”

“No, Auburndale. Art school.”

Bucky furrowed his brow. “I just feel like you’re someone I’ve met before,” he said unhappily. “And it makes me...” He knew the word he was looking for was “uneasy,” but he didn’t want to tell Steve that exactly. “Itchy.”

Steve raised an eyebrow.

“We’re going by train,” Steve told him. “I’m not asking you to get into a car with me or something if what you’re saying is that you don’t trust me. I get it. You don’t know me and I haven’t been too kind to you.”

Bucky noted that Steve made it a point to reinforce that they didn’t know one another. “I just want to know why you make me feel that way.”

Steve looked at a loss. “I don’t know, Bucky. I go to Manhattan for business a lot, but that’s only been the past ten or so years. When did you go to NYU? Maybe we frequented the same place or-“

“No, it’s not that. It’s...“ He looked Steve up and down and came up with absolutely nothing.

Bucky tasted the bitterness of his words, but he still tried to say them gently. He tried to let them turn to acid on his own tongue before he let them spill from his mouth, hoping they wouldn’t burn Steve too badly. 

“Have you ever committed a crime? Or done something illegal? Or something that-“

He didn’t get to finish on account of Steve bursting out laughing.

“Hell yes, I’ve been to jail. Regularly. I’ve got my own jumpsuit just set aside and ready for me to show up. I’ve served some short sentences, but I’m not dangerous.”

“Why?” He felt bolder asking now. The acidic taste was gone, leaving only curiosity in its wake. “Would I know about it?”

“Sometimes they make the news,” Steve shrugged. “I’ve been sent a few times for fighting. And I’ve been sent a few times for protests. And they both make the news, but usually different sources. The conservatives are happy to report I’ve gone to jail, but usually only when it’s for fighting. They like to leave out information about the protests.”

“What do you protest?”

“I thought you knew what I did, who I was. Most of Ma’s guests know before they come stay with her.”

Bucky shook his head. 

“I campaign for equal rights for people like us.”

”Us?”

“Gay, Bi, Trans, the whole LGBTQ community. _Us._ ”

Understanding dawned on Bucky’s face. “I didn’t- I wasn’t-“ He shook his head. “That’s real nice, Steve.”

Bucky reasoned that it was nice of Steve to do that, but it didn’t exactly mean he was a nice person. If anything, it proved he was more than willing to punch someone to get his way. He wasn’t exactly jumping at the chance to spend his time with a man he knew would potentially start a physical fight with him or anyone else. He considered his alternative: sitting outside the hospital freezing; sitting outside the brownstone, freezing; riding the train all night to keep from freezing. He didn’t have the money for a shelter, and they were probably all full by now anyway. 

“I’ll take the train with you,” he said finally. 

Steve smiled. “Good. Dinner? I’ll pay. Make it my apology.”

“Only because I’m starving and broke.”

Steve motioned for Bucky to follow him as they walked toward the train station. About a block from the hospital, Steve asked, “You were wary of me because of that?” 

“No. Because I have some apprehension about you for some reason, but also because you seem controlling about things.”

“Forcefulness comes with the job sometimes. I wouldn’t call it ‘controlling.’”

“Not the job. Just like toward your mom.”

Steve looked at Bucky as if he were out of his mind. “What about my mom? I’m not controlling of my mom. She would knock me into next week.”

“You tell her what she can and cannot do with the money you give her.”

“Bucky,” Steve laughed. “I’m just telling her to take care of herself. Sometimes, she gets so caught up in taking care of her guests that all of the money I give her goes toward you guys and the fridge will be empty. Trust me, if she wants to defy that wish, she will and I’ll be fine about it, even if a little annoyed. Her heart is in the right place.”

—⍟-⍟-⍟—

STEVE

“This place is the best,” Steve said excitedly as he opened the door to Stanley’s Pizza. “I know it says pizzeria on the sign, but they have so much more than pizzas. Pastas, salads, calzones, soups. I’d probably fight somebody for one of their breadsticks. They’ve got seafood and, oh, tiramisu, and a lot of grape jams and jellies that I guess come from Italian vineyards, and everything can be heaped in ricotta.”

Bucky tried not to pull a face at the mention of jam.

“I’m fine with just pizza.”

“Heaped in ricotta?” Steve teased as Bucky walked through the door.

“Thank you,” Bucky replied, tucking some hair behind his ear and taking in a lung-full of garlic and marinara scented air. His stomach grumbled almost instantly. 

“Is the ricotta really that good?”

“What kind of blasphemous question is that? It’s ricotta. It is the superior cheese.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow and Steve challengingly raised one back. 

“Ricotta is fine, but there’s still parmesan,” Bucky said with a shrug. “Even mozzarella...or even non-Italian cheeses.” 

“That’s it. I take back what I said about taking you to get dinner. You don’t respect Stanley’s. Get out.“

Bucky paused, testing the situation. “I just can’t believe you find ricotta to be a superior cheese. You know, munster is out there just waiting for its time to shine.”

Steve rolled his eyes dramatically.

“The three cheese fondue is Gruyère, Fontina, and Gouda,” the man across the counter mentioned, inserting himself into Steve and Bucky’s conversation.

Bucky fake gasped. “Oh my god, they’re not using solely Italian cheese in the three-cheese fondue and none of them are ricotta.” He fixed Steve with a pseudo-horrified look. “Should you just leave?”

Steve turned to the man. “If I wanted ricotta mixed into it as well, could you do that? Make it a four-cheese fondue?”

The poor worker shrugged, looking very much like he would like to escape the conversation.

“I suppose. It would be an extra charge.”

“Do it,” Steve responded with a delightfully sly grin. Then he caught himself and turned to Bucky. “Wait, wait. Is that really okay? If you don’t want that, I can get us whatever.”

“No, it’s fine,” Bucky laughed. “I would hate to ruin your obvious enthusiasm or to come between you and your very dire need to get your ricotta fix.”

“Yes, thank you.” Steve nodded for the cashier to go ahead and ring the order in. “Order whatever else you’d like,” he told Bucky as he himself skimmed the menu like he was looking for his own meal, but he was really just giving Bucky time to look and decide.

“What are you getting?” Bucky asked a moment later. 

“Probably my usual. The vegetarian Mediterranean calzone.”

“Are you vegetarian? Would you feel better if I ordered something vegetarian?”

“I am, but you should order absolutely anything you want. Don’t let me sway you.”

“I don’t want to upset you or anything.”

“You won’t. My personal decisions do not get to be inflicted upon other people. That’s not how life works,” Steve said with a light-hearted shrug. “If my personal ideals controlled others, I’d make everyone stop driving and take mass transit. I’d make everyone register to vote and vote with kindness toward others. I’d make it so I didn’t have to work like I do because the world wouldn’t need it. But you control you. And you only have to make you happy. Please don’t do anything to please me.” He glanced back at the menu and motioned with a small wave of his hand. “C’mon, what are you considering?”

Bucky looked a bit pained as he spoke. “The deep dish pepperoni or the-“

“That’s it. I take it all back. I’m highly offended. You are in New York and you’re considering _deep dish._ Get out.”

It took half a second for Bucky to see that Steve was joking, but then he cracked his own smile. 

“I’m actually gonna get deep dish now. Definitely,” Bucky replied defiantly.

“And that’s how I know you’re a transplant. A true New Yorker would never-“

“Small deep dish pepperoni, feta, and mushroom.” 

“Greek cheeses,” Steve cursed beneath his breath just loud enough to make sure Bucky heard.

“You want the mozzarella that usually comes on it?” the cashier asked. 

“For the love of all things pure and sacred-“ Steve started, but Bucky nodded. 

“Sure, load it up.” 

“What would you like to drink?” the cashier asked. He looked so terribly done with the both of them, but neither man seemed to notice or care. 

Bucky decided it was time to push the limits just a little bit further. “I’m not picky,” he told the cashier, “But let’s be real. I’m Russian and Scottish so what is the least New York, least Italian drink you have?”

Steve cringed dramatically and made an absolutely pained noise as he pulled out his debit card.

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

BUCKY

“It was actually really, really good, but you didn’t have to do this,” Bucky said, shifting the pizza box a little.

“Well, I just figure Ma has been doing most of the cooking and she won’t be around for a bit now. With you low on money and her gone, it wouldn’t be a terrible thing to do to get you enough extra pizza for a few more meals.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said earnestly. “She lets me help her cook now. It’s actually kind of a strange comfort. I’ve never been great at waking up early, but on days that I do, I’ve always liked making breakfast.”

“She said you made a mean breakfast burrito, and she wants to know your secret for the potato cakes.”

Bucky’s face brightened. “I’ll write it all down for her. That recipe’s from my mom.”

“Your mom a good cook?”

Bucky shrugged. “I mean, maybe she was. I don’t remember a lot. She died when I was eight.”

“Oh god. I’m so sorry,” Steve replied immediately, but unlike a lot of people when they say those words, he did actually look genuinely sorrowful.

Bucky shrugged, trying to appreciate the sincerity while not really letting it get to him in the moment. “I’m fine,” he assured. He hated when people said, “It’s okay,” about these kinds of things. It wasn’t fucking okay, but Bucky was removed from it, and he wasn’t there to dwell on it in the moment. “The thing is,” he pressed on, “she left my sister a lot of her old recipes. Well, she left them to Rebecca, but I’m the real cook of our family, so I photocopied the entire box of recipes she left and I’ve made most of the things saved in it. The potato cake recipe was among them.”

“Does my ma know you like cooking?” Steve asked. “She may give you more free rein of the kitchen if she does.”

“Looks like it’s all mine right now anyway,” Bucky admitted with a shrug. “Maybe we should make her food and take it to her. Is she a vegetarian too? She tends to make vegetarian food.”

“No. That’s just because she’s been catering to me since high school.”

“Did you go vegetarian to save the animals?”

“Actually no,” Steve admitted. “Although I probably should have. I went vegetarian because I have a lot of health problems, and a change in diet helped a lot. And then kept that way because it’s better for the environment anyway.”

“It is?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s way better. It’s the ultimate ‘go green’ thing a regular single human can do for the earth. But I won’t preach to you about it. Spend some time on Google for that one.”

“So would you go vegan?”

“Should I or would I?” Steve asked. “Because yes, maybe I should. But, no, I wouldn’t because-“

“Ricotta,” Bucky cut him off suddenly, and he shook his head as he laughed.

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

STEVE 

He pushed the door to the brownstone open and pulled his key from the door. 

“I’m sorry again for being an asshole. I promise, I’m not usually so damn terrible to people.” Steve motioned for Bucky to go ahead, and Bucky slipped past him into the house.

“It’s fine. You’ve apologized. Thank you for letting me back in. My bed here is much more comfortable than the bench outside the hospital.”

Steve walked into the house behind him and then turned around, remembering that Bucky always took his shoes off at the door. 

Bucky didn’t seem to notice as he slipped his shoes off and put them into the coat closet with his outer layers. Steve set his shoes aside and wore his jacket on into the house. 

“I would have felt like a complete asshole for sure if I’d found out I kept you locked out of the house,” he called behind him as he went up the stairs. He could hear Bucky heading into the kitchen and opening the fridge to put the pizza away. He heard lights being flipped on downstairs, but Steve didn’t need a light. He’d lived here for enough years to know his way around in the dark. 

His mother’s office was much the same as it had been during his youth, and he easily found the extra key hanging in the back of the cabinet of her computer desk where she always hid it.

He stopped for a moment to take a look around, making sure nothing seemed like it needed any attention. Her email was up, so he set up her generic away message and minimized the window.

Her plants looked healthy, and as he left the office, he assumed the fish in the aquarium had been fed, but he dropped in a few pinches of fish flakes just in case.

He stopped on the landing before the bottom floor to glance at the hole in the wall, but his attention caught on Bucky at the foot of the stairs instead. 

“What are you-“

Steve stopped when he realized his own answer. Bucky was hunched over and scrubbing a spot on the floor. 

“I didn’t clean up earlier. I just left immediately.”

“Need any help?”

Steve was more upset by Bucky’s response than Bucky seemed to be. 

“No thanks, it’s fine. I know how to get blood up from pretty much anywhere.”

The response rattled in Steve’s head the rest of the night, even as he gave Bucky the spare key and exchanged numbers with him. 

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate. I’ll come by and help you fix the wall tomorrow,” Steve told him. “I’ve just gotta get home to feed my dog before she commandeers the kitchen of my apartment.”

“Thank you.”

“Have a good night, Bucky. Let me know if you need anything.”

Bucky shook his head. “I will, but I shouldn’t need anything. I can handle it from here, Steve. You’ve already bought me food. I have a key now. I can take care of myself.”

But all the way back to his apartment, Steve kept thinking, _“Can you?”_

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

BUCKY

Despite the fact that Sarah usually went to bed at a decent hour and Bucky was usually up alone this late, it still felt odd being in the large house all by himself. 

Bucky pulled out his tablet and sat cross-legged on his bed. His hair was wet and brushed and framing his face as he sat in the dim room. Only his bedside lamp was on, and he kept thinking about what Steve had said about googling ecological reasons to not eat meat.

Instead, however, he found himself searching something much more relevant to his current interests.

_Steve Rogers_

Immediately, up popped a plethora of images, news articles, and videos. 

_Steve Rogers, American Activist_

That was the classification Google had given him. _Activist._ The word struck Bucky oddly. He wondered what it took to be considered an activist as a full time career. That wasn’t a weekend hobby. That was a lifestyle in and of itself. 

He scrolled to see Steve had a Wikipedia article about him and he tapped it before he thought twice.

He was a year younger than Bucky, born in Brooklyn on the fourth of July. US citizen. It listed his occupation as “Artist, Activist, Writer.” The art college that Steve had mentioned before was listed there, along with Steve’s high school. It even told Bucky that Steve had been “active” on the scene even before he had been old enough to vote.

“What a bitch,” Bucky said sarcastically. Of course the same person who had accused him of elder abuse and then turned around and apologized three-fold would be the kind of person to fight injustices before he could even vote on them.

Then Bucky’s eyes landed on something he hadn’t been expecting. Books. Steve had written books. They were listed there and the names caught Bucky’s attention. 

_Don’t Be Afraid to Be Obnoxious  
With All Due Respect...  
Yeah, I’m Gonna Fight You  
You Were Never Alone_

Before he realized he was doing it, Bucky was out of his bed, out of his room, and making his way to the area of the second floor that Sarah had deemed the library.

_“If Steve had books…”_

They were filed away politely with all of the other books. Nothing flashy or on display. Bucky reached for one as if drawn to it, pulled it out, and dropped it almost instantly. The book fell cover up and taunting.

He’d seen this book before. He had a very vivid memory of this book. 

_Yeah, I’m Gonna Fight You_

Bucky swallowed thickly as he reached down and hesitantly picked the book back up.

The cover was artwork of Steve standing in a uniform- a blue, red, and gray rendition of a tactical military uniform. He was facing mostly away from view and holding a large pride flag with its colors flying. And Bucky knew he had seen that picture before. He felt sick all over again, but he made himself take a deep breath and slide it back onto the shelf where he’d found it.

“Go to bed,” he whispered to himself. 

He hurried to his room, locked the door, and went to sleep.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/147908809@N02/50621774013/in/dateposted-public/)

—⍟-⍟-⍟—

STEVE

“I know, I know,” Steve told Moxie as she pulled hard at her leash. “Calm down. It’s been a shit day for me too, alright?”

Moxie didn’t slow down her pace or let up her pulling, and Steve finally had to plant his feet on the sidewalk and make her give up. At least he was stronger than she was.

“Look,” he said, kneeling down. Moxie had the decency to stop pulling then and turn back to check on him. “My mom’s in the hospital and I made some mistakes about a man who is actually a perfectly polite man, so it’s been shit. And I know nobody walked you all day and you’ve been cooped up. But I sent Sharon by to let you out to pee. She just couldn’t stay and walk you today. And I couldn’t come back while I was with my mom. And then I had to apologize to the guy I misjudged because I make mistakes - big ones - and he didn’t deserve them.”

Moxie started sniffing at Steve’s face and then licked once at his chin. 

“Thanks,” he replied flatly. “That’s not really what I needed, but thanks.”

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

BUCKY

“Whenever you wake up, I’m outside,” was the text Bucky received at 9:15 am, but didn’t read till he woke up at ten till twelve. It was followed by, “This is Steve.”

He had actually gone and checked outside immediately, expecting that Steve wouldn’t be there anymore. But there on the front step, probably frozen half to death, was Steve Rogers. He was bundled up in a down jacket with gloves and a hat on, but Bucky eyed the man’s jeans and would have betted his legs and bum were frozen solid.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. You could have called and woken me up!” he said the moment he opened the door and found Steve waiting.

Steve carefully managed to pull his body up from the cement step and smiled at Bucky who noticed some empty food containers beside Steve as he collected them in his hands. 

“Nah, I didn’t want to wake you. Didn’t know when you went to bed.”

“I sleep in late,” Bucky explained sheepishly. “Even if I go to bed early.” That second part rarely happened, but Steve didn’t have to know that.

Bucky held the door open for him and watched as Steve came in and carefully took his boots off before he placed them in the closet.

“You know, I didn’t usually do that before I saw you do it. If they were dirty, I’d do it, but if they weren’t, I wouldn’t think to take them off. But nowadays, I do it every time.”

Bucky shrugged and took Steve’s garbage. “S’just good manners.”

Steve pulled off his gloves and his fingers were pink. He worked them into a fist and then spread them back out repeatedly. “My fingers hurt now,” Steve laughed. “Didn’t realize they were that cold.”

“I can make you coffee,” Bucky offered instantly. “Or tea. Or something warm.”

“I can make it,” Steve replied as he pulled his hat off and shoved it into his coat pocket. He unzipped the down jacket and shucked it off as well before hanging it in the closet. “I figured I’d come help you with the wall. I also kinda wanna talk to you about something if that’s cool.”

Bucky sobered up about leaving Steve out in the cold very quickly. Steve wanted to talk to him. Steve had been a perfect gentleman last night, a completely calm and understanding companion who hadn’t judged or said anything wrong at all. He’d even treated Bucky like a regular guy despite knowing enough about his background to know he was at a launch house for domestic abuse victims. He swallowed.

“Huh?”

Bucky was eloquent like that sometimes.

“It’s a phone thing,” Steve clarified, pulling his cell phone from his pocket. “Ma mentioned you were a computer programmer. I’m looking for someone to build me and a few coworkers an app for our job.”

Bucky wanted to jump on the opportunity without even knowing the details. Steve was offering him a job!

“So what do you want?” Bucky asked. 

“Can you build apps? For an iPhone?”

Bucky shrugged with one shoulder. “Yeah. I could if you tell me what you’re looking for. I could probably make it happen.”

“A few things:” he started walking toward the kitchen as he talked and Bucky followed along. “A shared calendar so we can plan things together: lunches with politicians, speaking events, launches of various important companies or museums or monuments, just whatever. We need to be able to put it all into one calendar that we all can edit and all can see. I want to be able to click on the event on the calendar and see who is involved and the time and location. Tap the location and get an address. It can link to google maps or something from there. I don’t need a built in atlas and gps. Just make it open the other app. I want to have a list of contacts where I can put the contact and list their email, phone number, business, whatever, but also so I can organize the contacts by location. So if someone reaches out to me on Instagram or YouTube or whatever and says they’ve been kicked out of their home and they’re in Phoenix, I can call up a contact I have in Phoenix and make sure to get this kid shelter. That kind of thing. If it could have a way for us to attach our email, that would be incredible, and a gallery for us to upload pictures so they’re there for when someone wants us to send a picture of ourselves or of art I’ve done or Captain America or whatever for an upcoming event, so I can find and send it without having to sort through my favorites on my phone.”

Steve looked at Bucky to see if he were following, but Bucky had thrown away the trash and now had his own phone out typing away. 

“Making notes,” he muttered when Steve looked at him.

“If there could be a shared notes section so we can leave notes about various issues we need to address or we’ve recently encountered, just whatever.”

“You’ve really thought about this,” Bucky said, and Steve looked over at him again. Bucky flipped on the kitchen light. 

“Yeah, we’ve kind of said, ‘if only’ about it for years now.”

“I can make something for you guys,” Bucky said. “We’ll sit down and figure it out later.”

Steve nodded. “The extra drywall and tools are in the basement. Let me run and get them.”

“Let me go brush my teeth and change clothes and stuff. I kind of just rushed to the door when I woke up and saw your text.”

“Yeah, yeah, go do what you need. Take your time.”

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

STEVE

Steve couldn’t keep his eyes on the task at hand. They had cut and measured and filled in the drywall, and the whole time, Steve kept watching Bucky’s cybernetic arm. It was amazing how the prosthetic moved.

“You can ask about it if you want,” Bucky finally said with a shrug. “I don’t mind.”

Steve’s face flushed pink. “Sorry. I shouldn’t keep watching it. It’s poor manners, I know. Guess I just can’t stop being amazed by it.”

“Group of students and their professor made it,” Bucky said with a smile. “And I was the charity case they picked to give it to. Recommended to them by my doctor. And as much as I wanted to hide myself, I saw this tech and knew I couldn’t turn it down.”

Steve smiled to encourage him to keep talking. 

“There’s a water propelling mechanism that blows air out of it after I get it wet. Like a big version of your watch.” He nodded towards Steve’s smart watch. “And it’s made with a metal that doesn’t get too hot in the summer or if I stick it in the oven.”

Steve’s eyebrows went up and he smiled. “You’re not gonna test that, are you?”

Bucky shook his head. “Not on purpose.” He scratched his chin and looked at his shoes. He either plucked up the courage or he didn’t.

“I know it feels like we just ate together, but you wanna go back to that pizzeria and try our second choices?” Bucky heard himself ask.

Steve’s eyes shifted from Bucky’s arm to the floor and then drifted back up hesitantly.

“No, no, it’s fine. You said last night that you were broke. You should save your money,” he replied.

“I want to repay you,” Bucky said with a one-shouldered shrug. “For the help today and for the work.”

Steve waved him off. “You don’t have to thank me for giving you work. I’m paying you, remember?”

“But that payment will open up a lot of opportunities for me. And help me catch up on bills.”

“Glad to hear that.” Steve felt his phone buzz and he glanced at it before asking Bucky, “I’m headed back to the hospital. You want to come along? You could visit Ma and let her tell you she’s going to be okay.”

Bucky didn’t even hesitate. “I’d love that. Let me change?”

“Yeah, sure, go!” Steve said with a flailing motion of his hand. “I’ll wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets his love for ricotta from the author. _Whassup?_
> 
> And, the lovely, lovely book cover is by our wonderful artist [ohstars](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27594220). (Thank you again, Jo!)  
> 
> 
> Fun Fact: All of Steve's book titles come from his quotes in the comics.


	5. Part Five

STEVE

Steve surrendered the chair beside Sarah’s bed to Bucky as they came into her hospital room.

He didn’t even have to say anything aloud. He simply gave his mother a look of assurance and she gave him a look of approval.

“Bucky, this boy apologized sufficiently?” she asked. 

“Yes, ma’am. He’s been very kind. How are _you?”_

Sarah’s neck had a brace around it and a number of supports were around her midsection.

“They tell me I’m going to be alright,” she replied. “But it’s so uncomfortable that I may go mad before I get to that point.”

“But you’ll make a full recovery?”

“They haven’t given me any reason to suspect that I won’t, but they also said they’ll know more in time. I think all of the therapy they intend to force me into is going to make me regret all of the times I’ve made my own patients do things they didn’t want to.”

Steve looked at Bucky. “Ma was a nurse until last year when she retired.”

“I guess I just missed the atmosphere,” Sarah joked as she looked around the room without moving her head.

“Is there anything I can do for you that needs to be done at your house or anything I can bring you?” Bucky asked.

“I’ll have to tell Steve everything to do. I suppose you can help him where you’d like, but you shouldn’t feel obligated.”

“I’ll keep handling the bills and everything,” Steve added. He reached for his mother’s hand. At least her hands weren’t in stabilizers like much of the rest of her body. “I’ll call a cleaning service so Bucky doesn’t have to focus on that-“

“I can clean,” Bucky piped in. “I don’t mind.”

“You shouldn’t have to. It’s a big house.”

“Yeah, Bucky, you don’t need to worry about that,” Sarah added. “We can arrange for someone to come, and we’ll let you know in advance when they’ll be there so you don’t even have to be home at the time if you don’t want to be.”

“I already live there rent free,” Bucky pushed back. “It’s not a big deal for me to clean to help out, especially not in this kind of situation.”

“I said what I said,” Sarah reminded and Bucky gave up. “Unless you want to let me pay you for the upkeep. I could arrange that.”

“Ma, no, I’ve already asked him to do a project for me. He’s gonna be too busy,” Steve argued. 

“Let Bucky decide how busy he is,” Sarah scolded Steve before looking at Bucky. “Now, you don’t make a decision until you’ve really thought it over. I know you’re still job hunting, so I want you to consider that before you let me know anything. You could get a call about a job today. And I’ll be right here for another week or two depending on my progress, so you think about it. No rush.”

“She would be guilt-tripping _me_ into doing everything for her right now,” Steve supplied. Bucky smiled. Sarah rolled her eyes. “She’s always been very good about that.”

“That was the only way to get Steve to do anything. He would fight me at every turn.”

Bucky glanced over with a raised eyebrow. Steve looked guilty, but he still shrugged and laughed about it.

“I’m not good with following orders,” Steve admitted.

“They weren’t orders. They were chores. I am your mother,” Sarah chided.

“They felt like orders when I was younger. They felt like you just wanted to control me and suck all the fun out of my life.”

“Oh? Was I just trying to suck all of the fun out of your life by telling you to put your clothes in the laundry room even though I did all your laundry until you were a junior? Was I just trying to suck all the fun out of your life when I made you dry and put away dishes even though I had stood there and washed them all myself?”

“Okay, okay, Ma,” Steve laughed, holding up his hands in defense. “We get it. I was a horrible, ungrateful little twerp. You could have let me have the room with the skylight though.”

“Steve, I’ll be out of the house for the next week or two, so now is your chance to go sleep in that room!” she teased.

“Bucky, I’m moving back in,” Steve joked immediately. “Let’s go. Right now.”

Sarah laughed and rolled her eyes. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

“My persistence has paid off many times.”

She smiled indulgently at her son. “It has. And when used for good instead of evil, I’ll begrudgingly admit that I’m proud of you when it does.”

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

BUCKY

Lunch with Steve was fascinating. They’d ended up at a food truck instead of the diner when they had walked past it and Bucky had backpedaled and raised his eyebrow at Steve. 

“Does that smell as good to you as it does to me?”

Steve hesitated and smelled the air. “What even is that?”

“Our next meal?” Bucky questioned, testing the waters with how Steve would react to a sudden change in plans. His heart beat harder, speeding up a little as Steve wandered over to look at the menu.

Steve laughed a little and shrugged playfully, and suddenly Bucky could breathe again. His heart slowed back down as he watched Steve begin to debate options and make comments on the menu, and after he minute, he felt comfortable enough to focus on the menu himself.

Steve ate with skepticism at Bucky’s decision, but never once tried to steer him back toward Stanley’s Pizza or any other restaurant. The food truck had specialized in baked potatoes loaded with unconventional things. 

“Can I talk to you?” Bucky asked as he twirled some of the last of his spaghetti on a fork and pulled it from the potato.

“Absolutely.” Steve even set his own fork down to give Bucky his full attention. 

“No, no, keep eating,” Bucky insisted. Steve watching him would make him even more uncomfortable. “It’s easier for me if you just keep eating and aren’t staring me down,” he explained after Steve gave him a confused look.

It worked. Steve picked his fork back up and scraped more of his cheese and broccoli from his baked sweet potato and put it in his mouth before Bucky started talking again.

“I looked you up last night. On the internet.”

Steve appeared a mixture of amused and embarrassed, but he kept his mouth shut.

“And I saw your books. I- I didn’t know you wrote books.”

“I’ve never been short for words,” Steve admitted.

“I’ve seen one of your books before. The dark grey one with you holding the flag on the cover.”

_“Yeah, I’m Gonna Fight You?”_

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. I checked it out of the library one time.”

“What did you think?”

“I never read it.” Bucky looked conflicted and he put his own fork down, looking at the table as he spoke. “And I think maybe subconsciously, it’s the reason I’ve felt uneasy around you all along.”

“Okay...” 

“No, listen-“

“I’m listening.”

“When I was with Jack-“ Bucky’s eyes darted to Steve and then back at the table. “That was my ex. Jack.” He reached for his fork again, but just kind of held it rather than make any movements toward his food again. “When I was with him and things started to get out of hand, we started arguing a lot. And a lot of those arguments ended with him making rules that would frustrate me, but mostly, I just learned to agree to them so he would shut up and leave me alone.”

Steve swallowed and looked at Bucky, his lips pressed together firmly and his expression disappointed, but somehow Bucky didn’t feel like it was directed at him the way he usually did when he told these stories. 

“Jack started wanting me to come straight home after work. He didn’t want me going anywhere at all without him. And I agreed, but I wasn’t at the point where I was afraid of him yet. So one day, a few days after he made that stupid rule, I stopped by the library on my way home and got a few books about standing up for myself, about how to speak to people who are hurtful and hateful, about learning to really stand my ground.”

Steve smiled sadly and forced himself to pick his fork back up even though he was rapidly losing his appetite.

Bucky put both of his hands in his lap, the flesh hand gripping at the fingers of the prosthetic one.

“I brought them home. Jack was never home when I got home. He worked later so I didn’t assume he would know or anything, but he saw your book that night. Library sticker on the spine. And that name. And it was like someone flipped a switch. He did that sometimes. He’d go from laughing and fine to angry and volatile in seconds. And this time, he picked up this book, your book. He just snatched it up from right out of my bookbag where he saw it and looked it over with a sneer. I must’ve been stupid because I started saying, ‘I think we need to have a conversation about boundaries.’ That’s laughable now because the book was the turning point in our boundaries. I never even finished the sentence. He reared back with that book so fast, and then he was yelling at me and, and...“

Bucky looked off somewhere to the left of Steve. His face was anguished, but he wasn’t angry or crying. 

“He never hit me. Not with the book anyway. He didn’t hit me with it. He just held it back like he was going to hit me in the face any second, and I was reaching out trying to stop him, trying to talk him down, but he was just yelling, ‘Is this what you think? You think you’re gonna fight me? Who do you think is in charge around here?’”

Bucky scowled and glanced back, meeting Steve’s eyes for a second before looking away again. 

“I never read it. He just threatened to tear the pages out, so I ended up pleading with him not to, begging him to just let me take it back. He ended up driving me back to the library and I dumped the books in the overnight returns box. And afterward, Jack cut up my library card.”

Silence stretched between them for a few moments.

“He sounds like a truly troubled man,” Steve said after giving the conversation a little space. “I’m so glad you got away from him.”

“I didn’t remember your name or that you wrote it. I just remember the book between his fingers as he kept daring to hit me with it.”

“I know it’s too late, but I wish there were something I could do to help or to change that.” Steve caught himself. “Is there anything I can do?”

Bucky laughed under his breath and smiled ruefully at Steve as he put his hands back on the table. “No, none of it is your fault so none of it can be changed by you. And it’s in the past now. Just be patient while I learn to separate the real you from the cover of that book.”

“I promise,” Steve agreed. “And I don’t blame you at all for reacting negatively toward me after that experience. It makes sense.” 

Bucky shrugged in a way that told Steve he knew, but he was also unsure if he believed it, so Steve reached out and took his hand from across the table.

“And you’re never stupid for fighting for something important. That’s one of the points of the book. You trying to have a conversation about something as vital to your well-being as him knowing your boundaries? Never stupid at all.”

He seemed to realize his hand was on Bucky’s and went to move it, but Bucky turned his palm upward and open, an invitation.

And Steve reached back and took Bucky’s hand.

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

STEVE

“I have an idea for you,” Steve announced to Bucky as they checked over the patched wall later that day. It wasn’t quite ready to paint yet, so they put the tools away and Steve caught himself looking over at Bucky. 

Sarah had reminded Steve that Bucky was off-limits. But he was constantly thinking of him flipping his hand over during lunch.

“About the app?”

“No, no. Completely unrelated and you are welcome to turn me down right this second and I’ll never bring it up again.”

“Okay...”

“Let me read you the book.”

“The book?” Bucky asked. “Your book? The one-“ He stopped and took a deep breath. “Will you do it while I work?”

“On the app?”

“On laundry and cleaning up some things. Gonna give this floor a good run down.”

“Bucky, we told you you didn’t have to clean anything.”

“Hang on,” Bucky laughed. “I always do my own laundry. And I only cleaned a patch of blood off the floor from in front of the stairs last night, but paramedics and everyone walked their shoes all in here. I’m going to mop it all. So I’ll do that. And you go get the book.”

Steve didn’t put up a fight this time. He went and grabbed the book while Bucky grabbed his dirty clothes hamper, and the next hour was filled with Steve’s deep voice pouring words out and somehow soothing away stress Bucky’s didn’t realize he was carrying. 

Steve kept pausing every few paragraphs to take a drink of his juice and watch Bucky mop a second, watch him fold clothes, or to occasionally have a conversation about the content, but every time he returned to the book easily. 

It was getting dark when Steve paused his readings for Bucky to take a shower. Steve made dinner during that time instead.

“I didn’t ask what you’d like, but I know after our lunch today that you are adventurous. And daring.” He turned to see Bucky walking down the stairs with wet hair, a t-shirt, and basketball shorts. The arm was more exposed than it had ever been in front of Steve before. “My favourite pasta isn’t from Stanley’s at all,” he continued. “My favourite is butternut squash ravioli. It’s got a little sage, a little butter, and because it’s me, a lot of ricotta. I could just heap spoonfuls of ricotta on top and be happy.”

“Why don’t you?” Bucky asked. “It’s clearly your favourite food. You should have made ricotta ravioli with ricotta sauce on top.” 

Instead of pulling out a chair at the island, Bucky walked over to see the pasta cooking.

“So answer me this,“ he asked casually. “I’ve been waiting for an answer in your book, but it hasn’t come yet. What’s with the costume? The one on the cover?”

Steve grinned. “If you asked my mother, she would say I was being artistic. That’s because she’s very kind. If you asked my co-worker Sam, he’d say it’s because I’m a drama queen. And if you asked my co-worker Riley, he’d say it’s because I like symbolism and I think it’s important to give people a symbol.”

“What would you say?”

Steve looked the most shy Bucky had ever seen him.

“I’d say it gives me confidence. It’s my superhero outfit. It started as something for LGBTQ kids and teens to see and know that there was a superhero out there like them and fighting for them. And when you slip that kind of outfit on, it’s like putting on armor. You’re invincible. So you don’t let anyone intimidate you or tear you down. It’s the outfit I wear when I fight for myself and when I fight for everyone else.”

Bucky smiled. 

“Captain America?”

“Admittedly, the name needed some work, but it’s too late now. It started as a character I sketched during a meeting, and he was holding a rainbow American flag because we were still fighting for marriage equality then. And now it’s too late to rename him Captain Equality or Commander Pride or whatever would have made more sense.”

“It’s okay,” Bucky assured him as he got two bowls from the cabinet and returned to stand beside Steve. His left hand reached out and softly rubbed at Steve’s back. “The mission is more important than the name.”

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

BUCKY

“So you grew up here?” Bucky asked, motioning to the house around them with his fork as they ate dinner at the dining room table. Bucky and Sarah usually ate at the island, but dinners with Steve were often had in the dining room. And tonight, that’s where Steve had placed their bowls and drinks.

“Uh, part of the time,” Steve admitted. “But truth be told, we started this place with the money from my dad’s life insurance policy. With Ma finally getting away from him, we wanted what she referred to as a ‘Big Safe Space.’ I was fourteen then. Everyone expected us to be so sad, but in all honesty? It was freeing. His death wasn’t upsetting. It was a relief.”

Bucky looked down at the table like he was ashamed of what he was about to say, but he said it anyway.

“I used to wish something would happen to Jack,” he admitted quietly. “I used to think everything would just be so much easier if something happened to him. And I could just walk away and start over, and no one would have to know what had happened between us.”

Steve’s response came as a shock. 

“I used to think the same thing about my dad.”

Bucky looked up with a surprised expression, and was encouraged to find nothing but validation on Steve’s face.

“Did you guys tell anyone? Before?”

“I didn’t,” Steve answered. “Don’t think Ma did either. That’s the first step to getting help, but it’s the hardest step to take.”

“I thought about telling my sister,” Bucky said sadly. “Rebecca and I were always very close. And I had a choice. I could tell her, and knowing her, I would have been out of there and away from him and everything would have been fine in a few weeks. She’s a fighter and she’s relentless.” He laughed. “Maybe like you.”

Steve smiled with approval and took another bite.

“I like her already.”

Bucky shook his head. “We were so close. And I cut her out more and more until she gave up.”

“She didn’t-“ Steve interjected. 

Bucky’s head whipped up from his bowl to look at Steve again. 

“She didn’t give up. I mean, I can’t say that with a hundred percent certainty, but I’ve heard so many people say that over the years and I’ve never known it to be true.”

“My mom died when I was eight,” Bucky told him. “Cancer. Becca was four. And our dad wasn’t around a lot. Military. We lived with Gramma Hubbard. She was strict, but she was kind. Do your chores, mind your manners, do your best in school, don’t argue with your sibling or your classmates, go to temple without a complaint, and she would be so loving and sweet. She taught us to sew and crochet. She taught us to cook and make the best desserts. My mom loved cooking and then I took to it. And I was proud of what I could make.”

Bucky could practically smell the pies and cakes he and his grandmother had made together over the years. And he suddenly wanted so badly to hear her voice again.

“Our grandfather died when I was a baby so we never knew him, but she was the best grandparent anyone could have. But then she got sick one winter and she just never recovered. She was sick that whole winter, in and out of the hospital, and then she was gone. We buried her between Zaide and Mom. I was fifteen then and old enough to look after Becca when Dad was at work, but that same year he was killed in an accident at work. And we went to live with Aunt Ida. Aunt Ida didn’t want us any more than we wanted her. She wasn’t close to our father. And she had only met us a few times over the years. But when I came out?” Bucky’s eyebrows went up. “Ooh, she had a lot to say about that. She was so angry. Absolute contempt. Which was stupid. She wasn’t religious at all. Never went to church or anything, but apparently she and God were tight when it came to hating homosexuals. So I moved out when I was sixteen and I’ve lived with various friends and boyfriends ever since.”

“How did Rebecca react?”

“She didn’t really care. Think she might have been at just the right age to shrug it off.”

“And so she’s the only one you ever thought would care if you told them about the situation?”

Bucky frowned, but he nodded. “Knew if I called Aunt Ida, she wouldn’t give a damn. Would probably say something horrible like it serves me right for living in sin or something. And I was too ashamed to call Rebecca, so I just made myself handle it by myself. Which I clearly didn’t do very well.”

“Everyone makes mistakes and miscalculations. Doesn’t mean you have to stay there.”

“Not everyone’s miscalculations cost them their arm.”

Steve grimaced a little and couldn’t come up with anything in reply. It wasn’t often he was at a loss for words.

“He didn’t hit me all the time or anything. This wasn’t like one of those _Lifetime_ movies. But sometimes he would get angry, and then out of nowhere, he’d take his arm and backhand me, but with his whole arm till I was flat on my back, or he’d just reach up and slap me for saying something he disagreed with. One time it was literally for something he misheard. But when this happened,” Bucky motioned to his arm, “he was drunk. He’d gone out drinking after work and came home and kept drinking. And I was making dinner, just keeping to myself, when he stumbled into the kitchen with a mostly empty bottle in hand. He saw me in this grey tank top and black skinny jeans, and out of nowhere decided I was showing off for someone. He started asking me over and over who I was dressing up for. I tried to say it wasn’t anyone, and when that wouldn’t work, I changed it, trying to say it was for him. But then he started going through the neighbors and friends I wasn’t even in touch with anymore, just trying to find someone. He asked why I was getting more muscular and toned. Truth be told, I was spending more time working out. He’d already made me quit my job by that point. I got bored at home and started working out a lot. But he wouldn’t have any of it. He finally fixed in on the fact that I was cheating on him and lying to him, and he swung his bottle back and hit the wall with it. Glass and beer went everywhere. And then he swung it back forward. Glass ripped all into my shirt and shoulder. And he just kept hitting me with it. Over and over in my shoulder and arm. Blood pouring all over the floor. I remember it splattering on my feet and I remember slipping in it as I fell. The neighbors said I was screaming. I don’t remember that. They called 9-1-1.”

Bucky shrugged like he was shrugging a memory away, and noticed Steve’s hand was reaching out across the table again. Bucky reached out and grabbed onto it.

“The doctor said if they saved the arm, it would be useless, so it wasn’t much of a choice after that.”

“Was anyone in the hospital with you?”

Bucky laughed kind of sadly. “I had alienated everybody who would have cared.”

Steve squeezed his hand. “Then now is the time to start over.”

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

STEVE

“Okay, so you want the app mostly navy blue because you’re a classy guy, but with bits of thin rainbow trim because you’re a gay classy guy. I can make that work.”

“That’s not too cheesy, right?”

“No, no, it’s gonna look great, Cap,” Bucky teased. 

“Shut up.”

“You need to come up with a name for it. And maybe sketch me a simple layout of what you’re thinking for some of the pages. It may not be exactly as you’re envisioning, but I can get close, and it can function the way you have in mind.”

Bucky was ticking things off on his metal hand as the two men walked upstairs together.

“Right away,” Steve agreed.

“I’m not going to get this finished tonight, but I want to get a little bit of the base code done so I know I’m doing what you have in mind. We can work on functionality in the next few days. That’s going to take more time and work.”

“Whatever you say.”

They stepped into the bedroom and Steve looked up smiling.

“God, I put so much work into this,” he recalled with a smile as he stared at the ceiling. Bucky’s eyes roved over Steve’s form. He was in striped socks and soft-looking brown corduroy pants and a blue sweater. A button up white shirt was beneath it, but Steve made the look seem comforting and inviting. 

“That’s easy to see,” Bucky acknowledged as he dragged his eyes away from Steve to look at the ceiling. “I wanted to work in space when I was a kid, be an astronaut.”

“Me too!” Steve laughed. “But I was scared of black holes, so I changed my mind because I thought if one got me, I wouldn’t be able to get back home.”

Bucky laughed. “Better than me. I wanted to be an astronaut because I thought they got to meet all the different kinds of aliens.”

“That must’ve been quite a letdown.”

“Probably not as much as finding out you abandoned your dreams due to a threat that didn’t really exist.”

Bucky sat on his bed and picked up his laptop from where he’d placed it on the opposite night stand. 

“Okay. One app for Steve Rogers and friends.”

“Sam and Riley Wilson.”

“Sam and Riley Wilson,” Bucky adjusted. He pressed the power button on his computer, waiting for it to start up.

“And I would love to give a few other contacts access to the app as well if that isn’t too much trouble,” Steve kept going. “Our friends Carol and Okoye help us a lot.”

“No trouble. Are all of your other friends couples? Are you the only single one?”

“Carol and Okoye barely know each other. They aren’t a couple. Maria helps us on some things as well. She and Carol are a couple who won’t admit they’re a couple. Sam and Riley are the only real couple, and they’re full on disgustingly in love, married sons of bitches. I’d trade my life for either of them.”

Bucky smiled warmly. 

“First and foremost, a calendar you can all cross reference and cross...edit.”

“Yes!” Steve looked excited and he clapped his hands together once. “So we don’t have to communicate to finalize plans. In fact, if there could maybe be ones written in one color for finalized events and ones written in another color for tentative events?”

“I can do that,” Bucky agreed. He patted the bed next to him and nodded toward his screen as Steve accepted. “You like this navy or you want it lighter?”

“No, that’s perfect.” Steve answered. “And rainbow trim around headers and things, but the regular calendar can just be done in a white trim, background the same navy so it looks uniform. I want everything to look professional and look like it goes together. I’m hoping to be able to open it in front of important clients and not have them think it’s some kid’s app or whatever. It needs to look professional.”

“Okay, look,” Bucky said, giving Steve an indulgent smile. “I know you can beat up bad guys and cheer on kids while wearing a costume and you can write books and stand up to politicians, but this is my area of expertise. So I know it isn’t easy for you, but I can handle this. Let me show you some things I have in mind and you tell me what you think, yeah?”

Steve ceased his comments and looked a little sheepish as he nodded. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

Bucky opened a window on his laptop, and within minutes, he was typing lines and lines of code that to Steve looked like some coincidentally balanced keysmashes. Little questions popped up here and there, but mostly completely simple things. “Do you want the menu button on the left or right? Do you want a stand-alone home button or should I just put it on the menu? Do you want your names or accounts color-coordinated? Should there be something rainbow somewhere else? I can make a thin lined box surrounding the header the classiest rainbowed line you’ve ever seen.”

It took a while, but Bucky didn’t talk otherwise while he was building the code and Steve didn’t interrupt him for fear of messing him up. Instead, he just flopped backwards across the bed and looked up at the stars he had painted himself years ago.

“Now,” Bucky said, “this is just preliminary so don’t get too disappointed when you see it. It is nowhere near the finished product. And besides, only the calendar link even semi-works, but I’ll keep working.”

Steve sat back up and looked over Bucky’s shoulder. “Oh my god. You really do know what you’re doing.”

“Thanks?” 

“I mean, this looks even better than I had in mind. The navigation is going to be so easy. Is that star for the Captain America shield?” He pointed to the screen. 

“I used base images for now. I’ll replace them with original art later. Something minimal and to the point. I just wanted you to have a tab you could tap if you needed to share resources from your _superhero_ persona.”

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” Steve asked, turning his head toward Bucky and suddenly noticing exactly how close they were on the bed.

“Oh yeah,” Bucky replied, lowering his voice. “It’s not every day one spends their day with a superhero.”

Steve huffed out a laugh, and the breath ghosted across Bucky’s jaw he was so close.

Bucky swallowed and continued, looking away from the screen, but still not at Steve. “It’s not even everyday someone spends their time with a guy so kind and understanding and who’s such a good listener.”

“Now you’re just making stuff up.”

“No.” Bucky slid the computer off his lap to his other side and turned to face Steve a little. Their faces were so close and their bodies were leaning in toward one another. “I didn’t make any of it up. I know today has been a lot of talk of personal histories and a lot of work, but I’ve had a good day with you today. And you’re a good man.”

“You know what?” Steve asked. “I think you’re a good man too. Even though you made me sit outside freezing my ass off this morning.”

Bucky cringed, embarrassed. 

“I said I’m sorry. I really am!” He reached out and put his flesh hand on Steve’s arm, pushing at him. “I never meant to do that. Besides, you could have let yourself in!”

Steve’s laughter was warm and inviting as he licked his lips and looked at Bucky.

“I know, I know,” Steve answered. “But since you were alone, and after last night, it seemed like a better idea to wait for you to open the door yourself and let me in.”

Bucky’s eyes flicked to Steve’s lips and Steve saw him leaning in before he closed his own eyes and met Bucky halfway. Their lips pressed together softly, the slightest scrape of stubble as their skin moved against one another’s, and then Steve was giving more enthusiastically.

He ran his hands up Bucky’s sides, fisting one into the henley Bucky was wearing as the other held him gently in place. Steve kissed back more strongly as well, letting him know they were on the same page.

Bucky’s kiss was more sure now, like he was more in control now that he knew Steve would return his actions. He moved his one hand up Steve’s arm some more, but the metal one reached and slid up Steve’s leg in a silent request.

Steve granted it, spreading his legs a little so Bucky could slide his hand up toward Steve’s cock that was more interested by the second. Steve dropped kisses from Bucky’s lips to along his jaw as he moved one of his own hands from Bucky’s sides to start sliding up and running his hand beneath his shirt. 

Bucky’s breath hitched when Steve’s hand ventured further down, sliding into the top of his jeans, but he didn’t protest. Instead, he began to run his own hand teasingly over the zipper of Steve’s crotch. 

The answer was obvious as Steve’s hand that wasn’t teasing the top of the swell of Bucky’s ass moved to press into his chest. 

“Let me,” Steve husked. 

In seconds, Steve had Bucky pinned back against the bed, holding him gently in place as his tongue dipped into Bucky’s mouth over and over in quick, messy kisses. Bucky’s metal hand was tossed up to rest over his head on the bed, but his right hand was sliding around Steve’s waist, pulling at his shirt and untucking it so he could feel warm skin beneath his palm. 

Steve’s hands found their way down around Bucky’s waist, pushing his shirt up farther to feel the way Bucky’s muscles were pulled taut. 

“Fuck,” Bucky panted when Steve’s head crooked down so he could kiss at Bucky’s neck. “Steve, Steve- Fuck.”

Steve grinned. Everything about taking Bucky apart made him thrill inwardly. He worked the button of Bucky’s jeans through his fingers and pulled down the zipper, and Bucky’s brain came back online enough to reach for Steve’s zipper as well.

He undid Steve’s pants, leaning up to meet Steve’s mouth more fervently, but Steve only kissed him once, twice, before pulling away and tugging at Bucky’s shirt. He pushed it up, planting kisses along Bucky’s bare skin. He started at Bucky’s hip, kissing along his waist and then trailing up along his ribs. Bucky’s body was lax then, just letting Steve take what he wanted. Bucky slipped a hand into Steve’s hair, threading fingers there encouragingly as Steve made his way toward his sternum. Steve’s lips trailed over to Bucky’s left nipple, kissing and then licking at the pink tip. Bucky’s breath hitched. 

“Take it off,” Bucky panted, and Steve didn’t know if he meant the shirt he was inching up higher and higher on Bucky or his own pants, but he ran his hands up the sides of Bucky’s shirt, pushing it up to be pulled over and off when he suddenly saw the scars. 

Bucky was breathing heavily. His shoulders and chest were both covered in scars, and Steve’s eyes darted over them all.

“Shit,” he cursed, standing up in a rush. He stepped completely away from the bed and began doing up his pants. “I can’t do this. I can’t. I shouldn’t be doing this.”

Bucky sat up confused, letting his shirt fall back into place. “What? What happened?”

“I can’t. I made a promise,” Steve sputtered. “God, I’m so sorry!” He looked around in a panic. “I’m sorry. You- you don’t have to do the app. I understand. I’m sorry.”

And with that, he jerked the bedroom door back open and was gone.

Bucky sat on the bed, listening to Steve leave the house, and wondering what on earth had just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this so far. You guys are great!


	6. Part Six

BUCKY

Despite being tired from a day of work, Bucky didn’t sleep much at all. Every time he tried, his mind just kept spinning, kept trying to figure out what had gone wrong with Steve.

Steve had been receptive to his small advances all day, and when Bucky kissed him, he’d kissed back with fervor. Steve had definitely seemed willing when he had his hand beneath the waistband of Bucky’s jeans and was kissing his way down his neck and up his body. He had only stopped when he’d gotten to the prosthetic arm. 

Bucky had done his best to accept the loss of his arm with as much poise and dignity as he could muster. He recognized there was nothing he could do to go back and change the circumstances, so the best option was to accept it and make the most of it. After a healthy handful of months of blaming himself and sitting around in a wealth of bandages and self-pity, he was mapped and fitted with the new prosthetic. Rounds of physical therapy and training taught him to use the thing, and somehow, he had begun to feel better as he began to realize how much better he could explore the world again with the use of both arms.

Learning to love his body again was still something he was working on. However, he’d begun running on a treadmill each day and doing push ups and pull ups. His body was showing more definition now even though he had begun to lose all of that after so long living in the confined space of Jack’s house. The shelter in Indianapolis had had a running track not far from it and Sarah’s house had a small at-home gym. Each day, when he finished and showered, he made himself look at his body in the mirror and think one nice thing about himself. Repetition makes a master, they say, and Bucky had been just at the cusp of mastering feeling good about his body. 

This was never the reaction he had expected from a lover. Granted, he had always assumed they would see the scars from Bucky showing them off more hesitantly before they dove into anything as hot and heavy as he had experienced with Steve, but life was rarely what anyone planned it to be.

Now, a dark and cruel taunt was creeping into his mind. _Scars are ugly things. Keep your shirt on. Have sex with the lights off._

Bucky tried to keep the negative thoughts away, but turning off thoughts of insecurity only allowed for the appearances for other thoughts instead.

_What had happened between him and Steve? Would Steve want to see him again?_ If not, Bucky would have to leave the brownstone. There was no way he could stay in Sarah’s house and not see her son who came by at least once a week. Bucky would have to find somewhere else to go. A shelter, just something with a bed, would be enough. He couldn’t afford much more right now. His account was nearly empty.

Thinking about finances led him down a whole different path of anxiety, and so he stopped trying to sleep and got up and got ready for the day before the sun ever rose. 

Visiting hours at the hospital began at eight in the morning, and Bucky was there waiting.

“It’s way before your usual waking hour,” Sarah said as soon as she saw Bucky enter the room. “To what do I owe this surprise?”

Bucky stepped over so that Sarah could see him easily. She was still in a series of braces, so he knew it couldn’t be easy for her to look at him if he stood too close to the head of the bed or too far away. He adjusted appropriately and answered, “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Need to talk, dear?” she asked with a soft smile. “I can’t promise how useful I’ll be before coffee, but I will do my best.” 

“Do they bring you coffee or should I go get you some? There’s a Starbucks in-.”

“No, no,” Sarah hushed. “Don’t worry. I can get some here. What’s on your mind?”

“I’m just freaking out about jobs again. Part of me feels like I shouldn’t impose if you’re going to be home recovering. I should clear out. You have other things to worry about. And don’t try to tell me otherwise. You’re covered in things holding you up straight like a packaged toy with all those little twist wires and zip ties.”

Sarah was very visibly shaking her head without really doing that at all.

“And to move out, I would need money, and I can’t get a job and it’s starting to worry me again.”

“Did Steve not offer you the app job? He said he was going to.”

“Oh, yes, ma’am, he did. And that’s kind of him. I appreciate it, but-“

There was a knock against the doorframe of the room and Bucky froze.

Steve stood there holding a paper bag of breakfast food for his mother, but his eyes were locked on Bucky.

“I- I shouldn’t bother you with this. I’m sorry,” Bucky told Sarah immediately. “Enjoy your breakfast.”

“Bucky, you don’t have to go just because Steve’s here with food.”

“It’s fine. I’m probably just overreacting,” he managed. “Have a good day.”

He slipped past Steve and out the door without another word, but Sarah fixed her mouth into a hard line and looked at Steve rather unimpressed. 

“Okay, what was that about? You said you apologized. He said everything was fine yesterday. Now he’s been here fewer than ten minutes, you show up, and-“

“It is possible I apologized a little too well.”

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

STEVE 

Steve was pacing back and forth in front of Sam and Riley’s couch.

“Sit down before you wear a hole in the floor and fall through into Ms. Baldovini’s living room,” Sam warned as he looked over at Steve from behind his kitchen island.

“She’s a tough woman, but she’s also old and probably simply not accustomed to people falling through her ceiling,” Riley added from where he sat at the breakfast table.

“I just-“ Steve stopped and looked up at the ceiling as he let out a frustrated sound. “There’s this guy and he’s staying with my ma and I didn’t like him and then I did and then I pushed things too far so now he’s avoiding me and my ma told me I made the exact wrong move.”

“That’s not really new,” Riley murmured just loud enough to be heard. Steve ignored him, but Sam silently nodded his agreement.

“His name is Bucky. He’s one of her tenants or guests or whatever. He’s there trying to get back on his feet after years of living in a terrible situation.”

“He’s gay or the abuser was a woman?”

“He’s- I don’t know if he’s gay, but he likes men. The asshole was a man. Or _male_.” Steve rolled his eyes to express how little he thought of that so-called man. He sat down on the sofa and grabbed a pillow from beside him to hug onto. It felt better to hide at moments like this. 

“And you made a move on a vulnerable guy?” Sam asked, coming around the island to sit in a chair in the living room. Riley just turned around and straddled the chair so he could better face them.

“Actually the opposite,” Steve answered. “Well, kind of. He’s just- he’s so hot. You should see this guy. He’s fit and he’s got dark brown silky looking hair down to his chin and eyes that make you want to tell him things you absolutely shouldn’t. And he just started pouring his heart out to me yesterday.”

“Really?” Riley laughed. “He doesn’t have a therapist?”

Steve paused. “I should find out about that actually, but that’s not the point. The point is I told my ma how attractive he was like a month ago and she told me to leave him alone because he’s recovering and everything. Then last night we ended up on the bed making out and it was looking like it was gonna lead to more. He had his hand in my pants. Neither of us were saying no. But then- I just- I saw his scars from the abuse, and it was like my brain had this alarm go off reminding me that my ma said _not_ to do this.”

“And you blue balled this guy?”

“Sam, stop smirking! This is serious!” Steve groaned. “I jerked my hands away from him and apologized and bolted and now he probably thinks I hate him. He probably hates me more with every passing moment.”

“Have you tried- oh, I don’t know- apologizing?”

“Ma found out. Well, she could read me and the room like an open book, so I just told her everything, and now she said that - I shouldn’t tell this, God help me. This is not my business to tell. But she said Bucky told her that his ex wouldn’t even touch him sexually, romantically.”

“And you ran away from the dude like you didn’t want to touch him either,” Riley finished for him. “Yeah, you need to apologize. And explain yourself. Does he know about the rule your mom made about not getting involved with her housemates?”

“I don’t know. Probably not.”

“Time to call him,” Sam agreed. 

“You have his number, right?” Riley looked worried that Steve really had done this bass ackward. 

“Yes, yes, I’ve got it. He was... I was getting him to make an app for us to use for work.”

“He makes apps?”

“He’s a computer programmer, but apparently that includes app development. He started putting it together like most people put together a spreadsheet of grocery items.”

“Most people don’t put their grocery lists on spreadsheets, Steve,” Riley murmured, and again, Steve ignored him.

“Call him now and ask to meet with him to apologize and explain yourself. How hard can that be?”

Steve looked at Sam like he had just asked him how hard it would be to win a gold metal in the Olympics.

“You’ll never make peace with him and see if there’s any potential there if you never even call him.” Sam looked every bit the disappointing parent that Sarah did when Steve had done something wrong.

“Fuck,” Steve swore under his breath, but he pulled out his phone anyway, navigated to Bucky’s contact and tapped to call. 

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

BUCKY 

Bucky had silenced his phone the moment he’d arrived on the front steps of the building and looked up at it with a smile.

Just because the day had started off a flop didn’t mean that the rest of it had to go that way. He had confessed to Steve a story yesterday that now kept playing through his mind. It wasn’t the part where Jack had threatened to hit him over and over. The part that kept replaying was the vivid memory of the scissors being taken to Bucky’s Shelby County Public Library card and it falling like confetti to the ground. Bucky had picked up the pieces later and thrown them away with a sinking feeling of despair.

Today, a little more of that dark memory had to loosen its grip on Bucky’s mind and soul, because the Brooklyn Public Library would let him apply for a new card with them.

“And that’s all there is to it,” the librarian announced as Bucky slid the chair back from the computer. “Now, just show your ID when you come back to pick up your card and you’ll be clear to check out anything you’d like.”

Bucky looked concerned. “Uh, what if I don’t have a New York ID yet? I just moved here and I’m living with a friend. I don’t have my own place yet.”

A young blonde woman walking by with an armful of books caught his eye as she turned and focused on him. “I can help with this, Ms. Lawson. There’s someone at the desk waiting for you.”

The librarian who had been helping Bucky smiled at him kindly. “Carol will help you figure something out. She knows all about this place,” the lady informed before stepping away and leaving Bucky with the new stranger.

“Hi. Carol Danvers. I’d shake your hand, but...“ She nodded toward the books in her arms. “And I don’t actually work here, but I hold events here and I feel like I’m here way too often. I like to consider it my public service.”

“Bucky Barnes,” Bucky answered. “And I’m a new New Yorker. To be honest, I don’t even feel like a New Yorker yet.”

“It’ll take a while. Usually takes a few years to stop feeling like a tourist. I’m from Boston so I remember.”

“How long have you been here?” Bucky asked. 

“Nine years. Do you mind stepping over here with me? These books are getting heavy.” 

“Oh, of course,” Bucky agreed. “Let me grab some and help you out.”

“It’s fine. They’re all going to a room set up for a group coming in in about half an hour. You can just get the door for me.”

“Of course!” Bucky followed Carol to the conference room she specified and opened the door. There were a few short display shelves set up on the ends of the large table, and Carol dropped the stack of books onto the middle of the table with a loud clatter.

“Thank you,” she answered. She shook her arms as if to get the tension out, and then took the first book from the stack. “So you’re new. No ID yet. No permanent address, correct?”

“Unfortunately.”

“What do you have with an address on it? Anything? Do you have a job yet?”

“I have one kind of freelance job,” Bucky said, unsure of himself. He had no idea if he still had that job or not. “I haven’t completed the job or gotten paid yet. It’s a new contract.”

Bucky hated telling the half-truth, but if him having a job made a difference at the library as well as with his rapidly dwindling finances, he was willing to beg Steve to let him keep it.

Carol pursed her lips and began to set the stack of books out onto the displays she had set around. “Are you paying rent where you’re staying? Because if so, your friend giving you a printed receipt with the residence’s address-“

“I’m not paying rent yet,” Bucky told her. He reached for a book from her stack. “Is there an order for these?”

“Oh. No, just anywhere. Thank you.”

Bucky set out a book with two female-gendered symbols interlocked, before reaching for the next one in the stack and realizing what the books were. 

“Are these all LGBTQ books?” he asked, holding up the one in his hand.

Carol smiled. “Yeah. It’s for a class about LGBTQ feeling comfortable with themselves, learning it’s okay to take up space.”

Bucky smiled. “I wish someone had told me that a few years ago. Or when I was a teenager. This a class for kids?”

Carol placed another book and turned back toward Bucky. “Nope. Anyone’s welcome.”

She grabbed another book and Bucky’s eyes landed on the cover. 

_You Were Never Alone_  
Steve Rogers

He kind of laughed under his breath, but Carol must have heard him, because she glanced at the book she was holding and then held it out toward Bucky. Unlike _Yeah, I’m Gonna Fight You,_ this book didn’t have Steve in his uniform on the cover. Instead, it had Steve and a row of other people all holding hands and facing away. There were rows of flags in front of them like one would expect to see at an embassy or international airport, but the flags weren’t countries. They were the various flags of the LGBTQ community. 

“That’s me,” Carol said, pointing to one of the people in the picture. Bucky wouldn’t have recognized her. She had much shorter hair now.

He took the book from her and looked at Steve in the middle of the line of friends.

“So I assume you’ve read it.”

“I’ve read every book I’m putting out today. I don’t recommend something I haven’t read myself.”

Bucky nodded and Carol reached for the next book, leaving _You Were Never Alone_ in Bucky’s hands.

“Do you like space?” Bucky asked.

Carol looked at him kind of awkwardly. “I do.”

“I have this space mural thing on my bedroom ceiling right now. I can’t decide if it makes me feel like a part of something bigger, or you know, small and insignificant and-“ he motioned with the book, “alone.”

“Maybe that should be the first thing you check out when you get that library card,” Carol suggested. “It’s a good book.”

“It’s not really the sexuality thing I’m struggling with. And I shouldn’t be unloading this on you.”

“It’s always good to have someone to listen and I’m gonna be here a while anyway, so don’t shut yourself down on my account,” she assured him as she set the last of the books out.

“Okay, well.” Bucky swallowed thickly and set Steve’s book onto the display shelf. “I was with this guy last night, and things seemed like they were going well. Fast maybe, but not bad. I was into it. He seemed into it. And then he gets my shirt- not even off, just up, and sees my scars,” Bucky motioned to his shoulder. “And I am not exaggerating to say that he was out my door not even a full minute later. I’m damn near positive he ran from the house.”

“And this guy didn’t give you an explanation?”

“He said something like, ‘I can’t. I made a promise. I’m sorry,’ and I don’t have a damn clue what he was talking about. He didn’t make any promises to me.”

Carol arched an eyebrow and considered Bucky’s words. “Sounds like he’s either already got someone. And the promise was one of fidelity.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Or maybe one of those situations where his friend had a crush on you first kind of thing. And he promised to stay away from you and was breaking-“

“I’ve never even met any of his friends. I’ve only met him and his mom.”

“So something with his mom maybe?” Carol asked. “There’s no reason to assume it was your scars he was running from. That could have been coincidental.”

Bucky huffed a little like he didn’t believe her.

“I don’t mean to pry, but have you considered that maybe you haven’t completely accepted yourself with your scars yet?”

It was Bucky’s turn to look puzzled. He’d done his best. 

“Is this the same thing you ask people in your class?”

Carol shrugged and didn’t try to deny anything. 

“Maybe you should read it,” Carol said, motioning to the book Bucky had set down. “It may be targeting the LGBTQ family, but the words ring true for other scenarios too.”

Bucky laughed and took a step back from the table. “I would, only-” he motioned to Steve’s name and image on the cover, “that’s the guy.”

“Who’s the guy? Steve Rogers?”

Bucky nodded, unimpressed with the memory. 

“The one who ran out on you?” she verified again. 

“Yeah. I’m living at his mom’s place right now. It’s a long story.”

Carol hesitated half a second. “Steven Grant Rogers, pride of Brooklyn, ran out on you instead of-?” She cut her words short. “Call him. Call him and demand an explanation. You have his number, right?”

Bucky’s eyes went wide. “What? No! Why?”

“Because Steve isn’t just some guy who hired me and a string of people to be on the cover of his book with him. Steve is a great friend of mine and has been for many years. I’ve never known him to mistreat anybody.” She grimaced. “Unless he punched you. That I would believe. He’s done that to people a few times.”

“No, no,” Bucky whined. “You weren’t supposed to _know him,_ know him. This is New York City. You were- there’s millions of people in this city. No, no.” He dropped both arms by his sides in defeat. 

“Oh, just call him before I do it for you. Do you need his number?”

“No,” Bucky huffed. “You’re supposed to be helping me get a library card.”

“I’ll make Steve give you a rent receipt from his mother. Doesn’t matter if you aren’t really paying to stay there,” she said in a tone that revealed that Bucky had inadvertently told her enough for her to put together information on him as well.

Bucky pulled out his phone, hoping Carol wasn’t one of those types who would judge him for the cracked screen. “I don’t know what to say to him.”

“Just ask what happened. Steve is a fair and nice man. He wants what’s best for people. Besides, if you’re the same guy who was staying there like a month or so ago, Steve told me how hot you were, so I don’t think the arm scared him.”

“The scars?” Bucky barely squeaked before Carol had her hand up. 

“Sh. Shh. Shh. No excuses. Call and ask him. Or call him and say you-“

“He called me,” Bucky said flatly as he looked at the missed call on his screen. “I didn’t even feel it vibrate.”

“I bet it’s an apologyyyy,” Carol sing-songed with a grin.

Bucky opened his phone, finger sliding over the air bubbles trapped under the screen protector, and navigated to the voicemail. His finger hesitated over the speaker button a second. “What the hell? You already know everything now anyway.” He tapped the speaker button before pressing to play the voicemail Steve had left him.

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

STEVE

Steve had offered to meet in a public place when Bucky called him back, but Bucky had asked where he was and found out Steve was home, so the meeting place had been changed to Steve’s apartment instead.

“You better be on your very best behavior,” Steve threatened Moxie with a finger in her face. “Do you understand me?”

She sniffed at the finger and looked at Steve for a second before going and lying down on her large pillow on the floor. 

“I’ve really been trying to figure out how to work things out with this guy, but I’ve never fucked up with the same person so many times in such a quick time span,” he admitted to her as he double and triple checked his appearance in the mirror. “I think I really like him. And I don’t even know if that’s good or bad at this point. Just promise me you won’t bark at him. And absolutely promise me you won’t bite him!” Steve shot her a hard look. “Don’t imagine for a moment I have forgotten the Tony incident. Or the Peggy incident. Or the Sharon incident. You have a bad track record when it comes to people I have a crush on coming over. And I think you ran all of them off successfully, but, Moxie,” he held his finger up at her again, “if you bite this man, I’m going to let him bite you back. And I love you, but that is both a threat and a promise.”

In a moment of panic, Steve snatched up his phone and shot Bucky a text. 

Please don’t buzz or knock. It sets my dog on edge. Just text me when you’re here.

Bucky didn’t even type back. He just reacted to the text with a thumbs up and left Steve to meticulously straighten already straightened things in his apartment for the next ten minutes until-

Moxie’s ears went up when Steve’s phone vibrated on the table. 

“Remember what we walked about,” he told her as he went and pressed the button to buzz Bucky in. 

“I’ll unlock the door for you,” he mentioned over the intercom before stuffing two Lifesavers in his mouth at once.

Bucky opened the door very hesitantly and Steve sprang up from where he had made himself sit down on the burgundy sofa. 

“Hi! Hi! Come in!” Steve said, maybe a bit too enthusiastically, because Bucky looked almost bewildered as Steve stepped near to the door and ushered him in further.

“Hi,” Bucky replied. “You wanted to talk?” He hadn’t even stepped fully inside yet when the words left his mouth and Steve had to kind of shuffle around him so he could close it. 

Bucky looked down to see Steve’s shoes on and Steve noticed. 

“You don’t have to take your shoes off. I know you’re nice like that, but really, I clean it, but this floor is always a little dirty. I have a dog.”

Bucky’s eyes trailed to behind Steve, and Steve looked over to see Moxie standing just feet from him.

“Be nice,” he told her softly. “Bucky is our friend. Be nice.”

“Does he not like strangers?”

“She’s a rescue. She’s got a bad history. She’s very selective of people.”

Bucky nodded once and very carefully sank to his knees on the front rug just inside the door. “Hey there,” he spoke, looking at Moxie with a smile. “I’m Bucky.” He held out his hand toward her, but looked up at Steve. “What’s her name?”

“Moxie,” Steve answered with a smile. “She was Queen Moxie when I got her, but I told her there was only room for one queen in this house and I was here first.” 

Bucky shook his head and looked back at the dog behind Steve. 

“Hey Moxie. Hey.”

It took a second, but Moxie stuck her nose out enough to sniff at Bucky’s outstretched hand, and then he slowly brought the prosthetic one closer as well. He knew it looked different and probably smelled a little different too, but Moxie just sniffed it along with the right one.

“May I pet you?” Bucky asked. “I promise to be gentle. I know what it’s like to have people not treat you well. It makes you judge and question everyone else you encounter after that.”

Bucky glanced up at Steve to verify he wasn’t exactly talking about the dog.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said at once. “I’m sorry anyone treated you any way that-“

“That’s not your fault to apologize for.” Bucky kept his words quiet, almost flat even, just to keep from upsetting Moxie as he reached from where she was sniffing his fingers down to her chest and began to pet there gingerly, easy fingers over short, soft fur.

“I’m sorry I ran out on you,” Steve tried again. 

“ _That_ was your fault and it would be nice to have an explanation for it.”

Rather than feel insulted or put off, Steve appreciated that Bucky was honest and straight-forward about it.

“My mother has had guests come and stay with her from many places, and she helps them get back on their feet and start over. I’m used to it. Often, she even has multiple people there at a time. One time, a few years ago, she had five ladies there at once, and two of them had their kids with them. And some of them have been great women; beautiful, smart, funny women. But there’s a rule that I stay away from them.”

Bucky gave Moxie a final pat or two and moved to stand up. He was pretty sure this talk should have him somewhere besides his knees.

Steve offered his hand, but Bucky didn’t need it as he got to his feet and followed as Steve motioned him into the living room. “Anywhere you’d like.”

Bucky chose the far end of the sofa after noticing the TV controller and a book were on the opposite side’s end table.

Steve sat down at the other end, keeping the distance between them, and Moxie came and placed her head on Steve’s knee.

“I never have a problem staying away from any of these women,” Steve clarified again, reaching to pet the dog, but keeping his eyes on Bucky. “And I’m very happily bisexual. But she’s never had a man there before. And I don’t know if that made the difference or if it was something about you specifically, but from the moment I saw you, I thought you were just insanely good looking and I couldn’t stop trying to steal glances at you. Hell, I wanna touch your hair right now.”

Bucky blushed a little and nervously tucked a bit of hair behind his ear.

“And I said how attractive you were to my ma and she just instantly reminded me to stay away from you. You were there to find your feet again, not be bothered by some guy trying to make advances toward you. You have a life you’re trying to rebuild and you don’t need me to complicate that. And I promised her I would stay away from you. Not like- not like I can’t talk to you casually, but nothing more than that. I can’t do, uh, just nothing that could be considered flirting.”

Bucky licked his lips and nodded. “I understand.”

“But then we spent that time together yesterday, and I know most of it wasn’t anything sexual or romantic or whatever, but you kept making little advances...“

Bucky nodded in agreement.

“And then I don’t know. I already wanted you so I just- I wasn’t thinking. I let my wants get ahead of my rationale, and then I saw your scars and I remembered what you’d told me about how you’d gotten them, which just reminded me of why you’re here and that I wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near you like that. And I don’t know- I just- I think I panicked. I freaked out because I was breaking my promise to my mom and possibly setting back your recovery and then, then-“

“And then you ran away.”

“Yes,” Steve laughed embarrassed. “Then I ran away.”

“You know, I appreciate your mom trying to protect me. I really do because that’s so kind and so thoughtful, and if I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t want you acting remotely interested in me because it would be stressful and make me feel unwelcome. She’s really smart about that,” Bucky began. “But I do like you. And I made those little gestures yesterday just to see if you felt the same.”

“I told Ma you started everything!” Steve quipped. 

“You told your mom?!”

“You left the hospital as soon as I got there. She knew something was up!”

Bucky buried his face in his hands. “Oh god. I still have to live with this woman and you told her I tried to hit on her son under her roof?”

“She said I should go for it. She said as long as you were initiating it, I should go for it. She really likes you.”

Bucky beamed.

“She’s been great for me in so many ways,” Bucky admitted. “Being in New York hasn’t been all smooth sailing, but I like it so far and she’s helped with that. And you have too in ways.”

“I was trying to help you with the app job.”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I wanna keep that. Please!”

“I would love that. Thank you. And I love that you’re not afraid to say what you want.”

“Pssh, you gave me a speech about not choosing a menu item to please you when all I asked was if I should order vegetarian. I am not about to make anything less than a sound, affirmative decision around you ever again.”

“One of Ma’s rules is that you have to make decisions for yourself!” Steve reminded him as he laughed. “I was making sure you stuck to it!”

“You were giving me a lecture on living life for myself and no one else.”

Steve was laughing, but apparently the raised voices had been enough to startle Moxie into staging an intervention, because she jumped up onto the sofa between them. 

“I may have been,” Steve caved, petting Moxie to keep her calm. “I do make argumentative and persuasive and motivational speeches for a living.”

“Speaking of,” Bucky piped up. “Ran into Carol at the library and she said you cancelled your speech at the new LGBTQ art center last minute.”

“Sam spoke for me. That was the day Ma fell down the stairs!”

“Have you considered helping out with her library sessions to make it up to her? She spoke very highly of you. I’m sure she would be appreciative.”

“Why don’t you volunteer to help, Smarty Pants?”

“I’m not a public speaker,” Bucky laughed immediately. “At all. No skill. No courage.”

“I bet you could.”

“Nope,” Bucky shook his head. “That’s all on you.”

Moxie looked at Bucky like she was sizing him up. He had clearly moved too fast for her liking.

“Let her sniff you again very slowly,” Steve requested. “She’s getting edgy again.”

Bucky carefully held both hands out where Moxie could get her nose full of his scent.

“Would you...“ Steve ventured very carefully after Moxie was satisfied and had settled down onto the cushion between them. “Would you like to try again? Start over?”

“Do we have to start back where you’re suspicious of me, or could we pick up where we left off?”

“Directly where we left off?” Steve arched an eyebrow. 

Bucky looked around and then at Moxie between them. “Well, maybe not here.”

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

BUCKY

“And what do we have here?” Bucky asked playfully as Steve led him down the short hallway. He stepped into the room, but noticed with a twinge of sadness that the ceiling was bare.

“This is my bedroom door which closes and keeps the dog out,” Steve answered, closing the door. 

Bucky’s eyebrows went up. 

“And this,” Steve said, moving in close and kissing Bucky gently, “is me apologizing for ever hurting you or making you feel like I didn’t want you. I’ve honestly wanted you since the first time I saw you walking up the sidewalk toward me.”

“Funny, I seem to remember some bad times for us in between then and now,” Bucky reminded him wryly.

“Conflicting messages, I’ll admit,” Steve said with a step back and a helpless gesture toward himself. “But I thought you were so hot the first time I ever saw you, and I’ve tried to keep myself from thinking you were so hot every time I’ve seen you since then.”

Bucky smiled and ducked down to look at his shoes.

“And I imagine that even though you’ve been hurt before and maybe you don’t look the same as you used to that you still look really damn hot beneath that sweater. So, if it’s okay with you, and if you really want to, I’d love to have a second chance at taking your clothes off and doing very x-rated things to you.”

“You want to take my shirt off this time?” Bucky’s voice tried to sound teasing, but a part of it hit on just the wrong side of hopeful to be anything but.

“Among other things, yes,” Steve admitted, stepping back into Bucky’s space and meeting him with another gentle kiss. “But afterward, I’d still like to take you to dinner and to the movies. And I’d still like to talk to you more about the app and-.”

“I can help with those-“ Bucky replied. A small smile spread over his face as he looked up into Steve’s blue eyes. “I can definitely go for some pizza and a movie, and I know how to help with apps.“ He shrugged. “And I know they say don’t mix business with pleasure.”

“They who? Why should we listen?”

“No idea. They’re not the boss of me.”

Steve smiled back in understanding. “Exactly.” He pressed another quick kiss to Bucky’s lips and they both brimmed with excitement.

“There is one thing though,” Bucky interrupted. “I’m willing to let you do very x-rated things with me, but I require the dinner and movie first.”

“It’s 11:45 in the morning.”

Bucky shrugged like he didn’t care either way. 

“How about lunch first and then we walk around the city? I can show you around things you haven’t discovered yet, maybe? Then when we work ourselves up to being hungry again, we’ll find some dinner and you can choose us a movie and we will enjoy all of it. If I pass the day long test, we will consider coming back and doing x-rated things together. Either tonight or even another night. Since I missed my window of opportunity with you last night, I’ll leave it in your hands this time.”

Bucky smiled indulgently. “Now you’re onto something.”

Steve grinned back, clearly proud of himself.

“I want lunch at Stanley’s Pizza again,” Bucky informed him. “But you’re still paying because I haven’t signed the contract on that new app job I got so I don’t have any money yet.”

“Oh my god. I’ll- I’ll buy the pizza, for sure, but I’m going to write you up a real contract so you can put it on a résumé and everything afterward. Recent work should help you get another job, right?”

“I hope,” Bucky said with a small smile turning up the edges of his lips.

“Remind me to write that up today too. I’ll have to write it up and email it to my lawyer and everything so he can make sure everything is legal and whatever. And then we can get it back to you in no time so you can say you’re currently a freelance app developer.”

Bucky laughed. “You try very hard, you know that?”

“Is it working?”

Bucky looked thoughtful a second. “Yeah, I think it’s working.”

Steve looked pleased with him, but then shook his head. “Let me grab a jacket. We have pizza to eat.”

Steve went over to his closet and was reaching for the jacket when Bucky wrapped his arms around him from behind. “I was kidding, you know?”

“Kidding about what?” Steve asked, pulling the coat off the hanger and turning in Bucky’s arms. Bucky brought his arms up to slide down Steve’s arms and take a step back toward the bed, tugging Steve along by his wrists

“Pizza first. The day around town. The movie.”

“Wh-why would you joke about that?”

“Because if you had fought me on it, it wouldn’t have been a joke,” Bucky said sincerely. “If you’d tried to push, I would have made you work so much harder for it. But you didn’t even kiss me again. You just- allowed me what I wanted.”

“That’s what people _should_ do, Buck.”

“Yes, so now I’m telling you I want the x-rated things, but I’ll still let you take me to pizza and a movie afterward.” 


	7. Part Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of those filler, but also necessary chapters. I'm sorry. There's just little stuff throughout it that _is_ important to the characters and ending. I still love you guys.

STEVE

Steve walked to the vending machine and looked around in disinterest.

He and Bucky had been waiting for the hospital to discharge Sarah for a few hours now, and Steve was getting irritated.

He sighed and ran his card before choosing an item, and then walked back to Sarah’s room as he opened them. 

He opened the end of the packet and upturned it toward his mouth, letting the candies fall in.

“I can get you something from the caf if you want,” came a familiar voice, and Steve lowered the bag to see his neighbor Sharon standing in the hallway in front of him in her scrubs.

He shrugged. “I’ll be okay. I didn’t know you were here.”

“I just got here. How’s Sarah?”

“Supposed to be released, but they’re taking forever,” Steve griped petulantly.

Sharon smiled, completely unbothered. “I’ll go see what the holdup is and see if I can speed them along. I’ll tell them you need to go. That okay?”

“Thanks,” Steve replied. “That would be remarkable. I’d _pay_ you.”

“I don’t take bribes,” Sharon replied, but held her hands out. “But I do take Skittles as a form of payment and show of gratitude.”

Rather than pour a few into her hand, Steve poured a few into his hand and then handed her the rest of the bag. 

“I hate these things.”

“You sure?” she asked. “You keep them.”

“Trust me,” Steve said with an exaggerated expression. “And if you get a second, drop in and meet Bucky.”

“I’ve met Bucky!” she replied with a smile. “I’ve seen him in with your mom sometimes.”

Steve’s face looked shy, and despite the fact that he and Sharon hadn’t dated in years, they’d never stopped being friends and she could still read him as easily as any medical file. 

“Bucky’s something important to you, huh?”

He shrugged kind of shyly. “It’s only been a little over a week. It’s not serious yet.”

“It’s serious to you,” she corrected him. “You haven’t dated anyone in over what? Two years?”

“There’s something about him,” Steve whined. “I’m pretty sure I’m gonna mess it up every time I open my mouth around this guy.”

Sharon smiled like she knew something Steve didn’t, and then only pocketed the Skittles and said, “Keep him,” before turning to walk away.

“You didn’t get anything?” Sarah asked when Steve returned to the room.

“I just swallowed a disgusting mouthful of Skittles,” Steve relayed before popping the second handful in his mouth. “And then I traded the rest to Sharon for her to see if she can speed your release along.”

“You make it sound like it’s my release from prison.”

“Isn’t it?”

“So you went to the vending machine for a snack and then didn’t even make it back to the room with your snack?” Bucky asked, looking Steve over.

“Yeah, but it’s fine.” Steve went to his satchel that was sitting beside the chair no one was sitting in today. “I’ll just rot my teeth out,” he announced, pulling out a can of soda.

“You keep pop in your bag?” Bucky asked, peering over, and then, “Is that a whole ass tub of raisins?”

“You think you need to drink too?” Sarah asked. “Why don’t you wait and see if the candy kicks in.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed in confusion before Steve looked over and saw.

“Do you want some raisins?” Steve offered first. 

“What?”

“I’m hypoglycemic,” Steve announced with a flourish of the hand holding the unopened Coca-Cola. “So I eat all the time.”

“I’ve noticed you eat a lot,” Bucky said with an indulgent smile.

“Just in an attempt to keep my blood sugar from constantly dropping.”

“Steve used to upset his classmates because he had a timer go off telling him he could eat peppermints and peanut butter crackers in class.”

“They all wanted them and I didn’t even want the first bit of it!”

Bucky laughed. “And now you just give away your snacks to anyone who asks?”

Steve shrugged and assumed honesty was the best policy. “She’s my ex-girlfriend and she walks my dog for me sometimes. I don’t want to risk upsetting her.”

Bucky’s eyebrows went up. “Yeah, it’s probably for the best that we just keep her appeased.”

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

BUCKY

“Do not go check on your mother,” Bucky threatened, reaching for Steve’s arm and pulling him back onto the sofa. “She’s been home for four days, and you have checked on her more times in that time than you have in the past four years. I know. She told me.”

Steve looked conflicted for a moment.

“Hey Siri,” Bucky spoke seemingly out of nowhere. “Call Steve.”

When Steve’s phone started buzzing with a call, he flashed Bucky a glare.

“You think your mom can’t do that too if she needs you?”

“Punk.”

Bucky picked up the raspberry tea Steve had made them and made a show of taking a long sip while ignoring Steve.

“I am perfectly capable of taking care of her without you here, you know. You don’t have to keep cancelling appearances for her.”

Steve groaned. “I know, I know.”

Bucky looked at his phone in his hands again. Part of him wanted to use Steve’s for the presentation. His wasn’t exactly something to show off, but still, he felt more comfortable using what he knew.

Steve looked at his own phone and stood up. “They’re about to arrive. I’m gonna go unlock the door.”

Bucky tried to brace himself and tell himself that he would be fine, but this seemed like a big step in his and Steve’s budding relationship. Steve must have noticed Bucky’s nerves, because he leaned over, and kissed him, and said, “They’re cool guys. You’ll like them. They’ll like you.”

“I’m more nervous about the presentation.”

“You’ll do fine with that too,” Steve assured him. “Do you have something to show them?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how to talk about it and show it off?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’ll do great.”

Bucky raked some hair behind his ear and looked at his phone again as Steve sprinted to unlock the front door. 

He was still mentally going over his presentation when a handful of new voices joined Steve’s in the foyer. His heart sped up. It had been years since he had done a presentation on any of his work, and then it had always been a team effort, not Bucky working alone. And it was definitely done in an office, not a dining room table like where his laptop was currently perched. 

“Bucky!” Steve chirped as he entered back into the living room. “Come and meet my friends.”

Bucky stood up as people he didn’t recognize began to step into the room. 

“Bucky, we’ve heard so much about you,” a handsome man with a kind voice and a gap in his front teeth said before reaching out to shake Bucky’s hand. “Steve can’t shut up about you honestly. I’m Sam Wilson.”

“And I’m Riley Wilson,” a voice added, sticking his hand out the second Sam let go. “Thank you so much for being willing to make us an app. I’m sure it’s going to be so helpful.”

“I hope so,” Bucky said, feeling the tightness in his chest still holding on. “I tried.”

“I am sure it’s better than anything we’ve got now,” a woman spoke as Riley stepped aside. She reached out and shook Bucky’s hand as well. “Maria Rambeau. I run one of the top homes and counseling centers for LGBTQ youth in the state.”

“With help,” came a voice that Bucky recognized, and he looked over to see Carol from the library grinning at him. “Plus, with Steve’s help, we also just opened an art center, and we are working on a gym and public pool with Riley and Sam.”

“All for gay kids?” Bucky’s voice was awestruck.

“For LGBTQIA+ people,” Carol corrected with a smile. “But sometimes they jetset out of New York for other states or countries or wherever, like Okoye right now, and an app would really help us all prioritize and keep in touch about everything.”

“Well, wait no more,” Bucky answered with a smile. He turned and held out his arm to motion them all toward the dining room. Steve reached out and rubbed a hand between Bucky’s shoulder blades, easing some of the tension there.

“I’m so excited,” Riley piped up while pulling out his seat, so Carol coughed, “Nerd,” under her breath before Steve flicked the lights out. 

Bucky plugged his phone into the laptop, and then had his phone and computer link to the projector lighting up the solid white wall of the dining room.

“We discussed a lot of names for it,” Bucky started as everyone settled in and looked at him. “We thought about _Spirit_ , but that sounds like a horse or an airline. Thought about _TransLove_ , but it sounds like a hookup site for the trans community, so literally no one would think of bridging gaps. We thought about _Diverse_ , but one, there’s already an app called that, and two, I just don’t really like it.”

There were some soft laughs from around the table and Bucky felt some of his nerves slipping away.

“But right now, we’re calling it _Variant._ We liked how that felt for now. If you have another idea, feel free to yell at Steve about it.”

Steve looked mildly surprised at Bucky throwing him under the bus, but then Monica said, “We always do,” and Bucky was back on track.

Before he realized it, he was breezing through the app, showing off how easy it was for all of them to access both personal and joint files, calendars, and social platforms. There was an intranet that allowed messages to be pinged to one another in-app, and a large gallery of images and files and contacts for each of them to reach at a moment’s notice. He spoke for over an hour before he seemed to reach the end and trailed off.

“And everything always has a few bugs as you start using it, so the last link at the very bottom is just my phone number and email and a way to send me the report if it does something glitchy.”

Everyone was quiet despite having been very talkative the entire time, and Bucky found that the nerves he had lost during the flow of the presentation were returning by the second, until Sam finally said, “Holy shit, Barnes. You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Thank you,” he answered almost shyly. 

“I know!” Riley agreed. “When Steve said someone was making us an app, I expected it to be something with a calendar and an address book, but I didn’t expect an app where I could search all of our social media platforms in one place with keywords or dates. That’s a lot of indexing.”

“Thank you. I’ve had a lot of sleepless nights these past few weeks,” Bucky confessed sheepishly.

“Some of them must have even been spent working on the app,” Monica teased, turning to look at Steve with a smirk.

“Oh shut up. He put his heart and soul into this thing,” Steve defended. “He made me go away on multiple occasions because he couldn’t focus.”

“Oh, I like you,” Riley laughed. “Anyone who can put Steve in his place.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said a third time. 

“So are you joining us, Bucky?” Carol asked openly. “We could use another voice, and now that you’re with Steve-“

“Oh, no, no, no,” Bucky answered at once. “You guys do speeches and host events and lead protests and I-“ he squeaked. “I’m just a guy with a computer programming degree trying to get his life back on track.”

“Maybe this is it,” Sam offered. “Think about it. You fall on the community spectrum, you can contribute something different, and you can still do your programming job. You can do that remotely, right?”

“The pay fluctuates and the appearances are all over, but you wouldn’t regret it,” Riley added. “It’s fulfilling.”

“Don’t let them force you into any decisions tonight,” Maria insisted. “Take some time and think about it all.”

Bucky shook his head. “I have to help people somewhere else. I can’t do _this._ ”

A few of them made confused faces, but Steve realized what he was saying immediately. 

“They don’t have to be separate issues, Buck,” he said softly.

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

STEVE

“Why don’t you move in with me?” Steve asked one day as Bucky began his search for apartments.

“I can’t,” Bucky answered. “I mean, not to hurt your feelings or anything. I know we’re getting more serious and it’s been a few months and plenty of people would, but getting my own place?” He looked up at the stars on the ceiling of the bedroom he’d lived in for the better part of the last year. “It’s something I need to do, you know? I’ve never had a place that was just my own.”

Steve smiled as Bucky looked at him. “What are you looking for?”

“Really just a place that’s nice enough and close by. There’s an apartment in Red Hook and two in Sunset Park that I might go check out later today.”

“Want me to go with you or you want to do that on your own too?”

“You can come,” Bucky allowed. “You’ll help me scope out the places and make sure I’m making a good decision.”

“Gonna pick the place closest to me,” Steve teased. 

“You better really help!” Bucky threatened with a prosthetic finger in Steve’s face, but Steve only leaned forward and kissed it, and Bucky softened. 

“I’ll really help,” he promised. “I want you to have the nicest, cleanest, most affordable, and safest apartment out there.”

“Thank you.” Bucky reached for Steve and pulled him close, wrapping his arms loosely around his neck. “It’s a little scary,” he admitted. 

“Yeah?” Steve’s hands found their way to Bucky’s hips. “Big changes always are. But you’ve been here since last October. And you’ve come so far since then. And even though you kept trying to leave early-“

“Because of you!”

“You stayed,” Steve continued stubbornly, “and somehow turned staying into a lucrative deal.”

“Excuse you!” Bucky countered. “I cleaned this huge ass house and did everything for your mom for months!”

“Did I hear my name?” Sarah called from the hallway. 

“Lunchtime,” Steve whispered to Bucky. 

Bucky extracted himself from Steve’s embrace and went and opened the door. “I was just telling him I worked very hard for you.”

“That you did,” Sarah replied. “You were exceptional. Steven, don’t pick on my new favourite son.”

Steve’s jaw fell open, but Bucky beamed.

Sarah rolled her eyes sarcastically. “I love you both. Now come get your lunch before it’s cold.”

“After lunch,” Steve told his mother as she rolled her wheelchair toward the elevator Steve had had especially installed for her, “Bucky and I are going to go check out some new apartments.”

Sarah shot a smile over her shoulder at Bucky. 

“Steve, it wouldn’t hurt you to let him check out the place and you double back around and ask any tenants you see how they rate the place, the landlord, etc.”

“I know. I’ll search for online reviews too.” He pressed the button and the doors opened. 

“I can do this stuff,” Bucky assured them. 

“You focus on finding out the apartment basics. I’m going to do your black ops work.”

“It’s an apartment, Steve. Not a top secret government assignment.”

“Hey, do you want the perfect apartment or do you not?”

They all boarded the elevator. They only used it when they were with Sarah, but since her recovery would take over a year, Steve had splurged. 

Bucky looked at Sarah pointedly and pressed the button for the ground floor. “Do you know that not only does he think apartment hunting is a secret agent assignment, he thinks that everything remotely Italian is meant to be slathered in heaps of ricotta?”

Sarah laughed. “You know we’re having Italian for lunch, right?”

“You people know you’re Irish, right?” Bucky countered lightheartedly.

“One time, when he was about ten, I caught him in the middle of the night, standing with the refrigerator door open, a tub of ricotta in one hand, and the other putting a spoonful of it in his mouth.”

“So this is not a recent development, I see.”

“Guys, it is a gift. It doesn’t even deserve to be called cheese. It is a god among cheeses.”

“It’s got a weird texture, Steve,” Bucky shrugged. “Even _you’ve_ gotta admit that.”

“I can’t believe this is the way you’re treating me the day before I leave you again.”

“You’ll be gone a week, Steve. You’re not shipping off to war.”

“Ah, everything’s a war with him,” Sarah reminded him as the doors opened again. 

“And it’s a war to be won!” Steve argued. “Just like this apartment war and the ricotta war.”

“There is no apartment or ricotta war. You made those up.”

“Maybe not for you!” Steve laughed. 

Everyone headed toward the kitchen as Bucky marveled at the playfulness with which Steve argued his points. Arguments had never been playful before. Arguments with Jack had always turned serious in a matter of seconds; an iron-willed refusal to be questioned or made fun of even in the most lighthearted of ways, but Steve? Steve was _only_ there for playful arguments. When something turned serious, Steve dropped his argumentative stance immediately and discussed things openly and honestly. It seriously made Bucky question what the people Steve had punched had done to set him off, because as far as Bucky was concerned, he was the most level-headed and caring person he knew. 

They got to the kitchen where Sarah had been baking lasagne before coming upstairs, and Steve beamed to see the ricotta container in the recycling bin. 

“I’m guessing this lasagne is _stuffed._ I am so excited.”

And Sarah and Bucky just shook their heads in unison as they began to set the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is the last chapter and I will post the epilogue at the same time because it's pretty short. Thank you all who have been messaging me and commenting. You're fantastic.


	8. Part Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some time jumps here. I think they're obvious. Mainly just after the dinner.
> 
> **Warning: There's a little nsfw stuff in this one too so be aware.**

STEVE & BUCKY 

“Will you paint my ceiling at the new apartment?” Bucky asked that night as they lay awake in bed, staring upward. 

“You like these stars that much?”

“Absolutely, yes.”

Steve leaned over and kissed Bucky’s bare shoulder. 

“They won’t make you paint over it if they discover it, will they?”

“Only when it’s time for me to move out,” Bucky answered. “I asked all of the landlords we spoke with today.”

Steve grinned. “You would.”

They were silent a moment, just lying next to one another with Steve’s arm under Bucky’s head.

“I’m gonna read your books,” Bucky announced. He wasn’t ready to fall asleep yet. Steve left in the morning.

“Oh, I can get you copies. Or, Ma should have some copies here.”

“No, I’m gonna use my new fancy library card.”

“Oooh,” Steve remarked. “I hate that I’m going to miss that.”

“I’ll send you a picture.”

“I’ll draw your superhero costume while I’m gone, because after you finish reading _Yeah, I’m Gonna Fight You,_ you’re gonna want one as well.”

“I don’t think I’m superhero material.”

Steve kissed his shoulder again. “You think that now because you haven’t read the book yet.”

Bucky laughed quietly, and Steve wanted to store the sound away, to bottle it and take it with him. 

“Where do you find all of this confidence?”

“I was born with it,” Steve insisted, before grabbing at Bucky’s hips and rolling them so that he was covering Bucky, weight bearing down just enough for Bucky to appreciate the feeling. Steve leaned down gently and placed a kiss on his lips. “But don’t worry,” he murmured. “It’s gonna rub off on you.”

Bucky’s hand snaked down beneath their covers and grabbed at Steve’s cock that was half-hard against his thigh. 

“Is _this_ gonna just rub off, or are you gonna show me you mean business when you say you’re gonna miss me?”

Steve’s breath faltered a half-second before he laughed to himself. 

Bucky shook his head. “Can’t believe you’re gonna fuck me with your mother down the hall.”

“Can’t believe you made it so obvious you would allow it, wanted it even. Encouraged it.”

Bucky spread his legs to better accommodate Steve. “Oh, I can call this off any second,” he assured him as he felt Steve’s length stiffen more against his own. 

“I make no promises to not go into your bathroom and jack off very loudly.”

Bucky reached an arm out, flailing a bit for the night stand that was just out of reach, but Steve saw his dilemma and retrieved the supplies for him.

He rolled off of Bucky and set the condom and lube on the nightstand closest to himself, before pushing the covers down toward the foot of the bed and reaching to hook his hand around Bucky’s knee. 

Bucky took the hint and spread his legs to give Steve better access. 

“When you’re in Washington, will you and Sam and Riley share a room?”

“Hell no,” Steve replied with a horrified face and a shake of his head. “I don’t wanna know what they do in bed.”

“Well, probably just sleep if you’re in the room too,” Bucky replied with a dramatic eye roll. 

Steve shook his head. He looked Bucky over like he wanted to devour him in every way, and a wave of excitement ran through Bucky’s core. 

“We get separate rooms, okay? Now no more talking about other guys when I’m about to be in you.”

Bucky laughed. “Just wanted to know if I could FaceTime you and jerk off together, or if I was going to have to phone sex you with you hiding in the bathroom like it was the ‘90s.”

“Don’t discount phone sex, Bucky,” Steve tisked. The lights were dim, but he ran one hand down Bucky’s side from his ribs down to his waist. “You good?”

“Oh, yeah. Get to it,” Bucky urged with a teasing tone to his voice.

Steve just grinned and leaned forward, placing a kiss on the inside of Bucky’s bent knee.

“Patience,” Steve urged quietly. “I’m not gonna see you for a week. Let me take my time.”

He surged up and pulled Bucky to him, burying his face in Bucky’s neck as locks of Bucky’s dark brown hair fell around him. 

Bucky sucked in a breath and tried to relax as Steve just hummed low and happily to himself and went about exploring Bucky’s warm skin. A soft kiss was placed on Bucky’s earlobe, and then another was planted just below it and then slightly behind. The only thing Bucky could hear was the low sounds of Steve breathing, holding Bucky’s bare body flush to his, and peppering soft, wet kisses down his neck.

Bucky made a pleased whine, and his hands came up to wrap around Steve’s arms and shoulders.

Steve didn’t falter. He looked up, met Bucky’s lips in a brief kiss followed by another, before ducking his head again. This time, his lips landed on Bucky’s collarbone; two pointed kisses side by side before he dipped lower. 

Bucky’s whole body tensed when Steve’s tongue suddenly swirled around his nipple. Steve let his mouth work over it a few times, experimental, teasing. His tongue flat and then pointed so he could hear Bucky’s breath hitch. 

“Fuck,” Bucky swore under his breath as his fingers immediately moved to run through Steve’s hair, encouragingly. “Steve, Steve.”

Steve only pulled off with a grin and moved to the other nipple to repeat his actions, and Bucky’s hand clenched in Steve’s hair.

Steve kept going until the pull started to burn and he lifted up. Bucky’s hands released and Steve wrapped his arms around him, watching Bucky’s chest rise and fall quickly. 

“Lie back,” he whispered, and then helped to gently settle Bucky’s bare body back against the bed and pillows behind him.

“Steve,“ Bucky whimpered and Steve laughed quietly again. 

His lips traced their way down, kissing down Bucky’s chest to his navel, swirling his tongue and feeling Bucky’s body tighten beneath his fingers he had splayed over his exposed skin.

He moved his lips slowly and steadily toward the vee of Bucky’s hips, kissing inside the soft skin, nosing along the dark hair that started to form there. 

He knew the skin was sensitive, but he also knew the effect that area had on areas nearby, and he could feel it as Bucky’s body started straining.

“Please,” Bucky whimpered as Steve moved to kiss his inner thigh. 

Steve raised up, leaving Bucky’s cock straining inches from his mouth. “Please what? You want me to stop?”

“No, no,” Bucky whined immediately as he raised up to look at Steve. “Please. More, please.”

“Shh,” Steve reassured him, reaching his free hand up to encircle the base of Bucky’s cock. “I’ve got you. You don’t have to beg. I’m gonna take care of you. You don’t ever have to beg.”

Bucky nodded and let his head land back against the pillow. “Thank you,” he whispered, and Steve smiled indulgently as Bucky’s hands found Steve’s hair again.

“Yes, yes, please,” he panted, feeling his body respond to Steve’s ministrations as Steve kissed further inside his thigh and then trailed his lips to the cock in his hand.

“I’ve got you,” Steve reminded again softly, and then planted a kiss on the head of Bucky’s darkening cock. “I’m gonna take care of you.”

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

The plane touched down and Steve stood up almost as soon as he could get his seatbelt off. 

Sam laughed. “Have somewhere to be?”

Steve knew he was sitting in economy and it would take a while to deboard, but he couldn’t help himself. 

“He’s waiting,” was all he said in reply. “And he walked Moxie right before he came so we could go grab dinner.”

“All of us or just you two?” Riley asked as his stomach grumbled. 

“All of us. I told him you guys liked doing that.”

When it came their turn, Sam and Riley let Steve go ahead of them. Partially to be nice, and partially because they wanted to see the look of excitement on Bucky’s face when Steve walked into view.

Riley even had his camera going to capture the moment Steve grabbed onto Bucky and picked him up off his feet a few inches just to make a dramatic display of kissing him.

“So gonna use that to make a video for their _wedding day,_ ” he told Sam in a joking whisper as they all walked from the airport. 

“I always hate landing in LaGuardia,” Steve told Bucky while they waited in line for a cab. “But this time, the runway couldn’t be short enough. I just wanted to get back. You have to come with us next time.”

“We’ll see,” Bucky replied, which Steve noted was dismissive, but he also realized was Bucky-code for there was more to his decision than just Steve’s desire for him to be there. 

Neither Sam nor Riley batted an eye when Steve heaped ricotta onto his pizza, which told Bucky this was a regular occurrence.

“You know, I looked it up, and I don’t think hypoglycemia and a ton of Italian foods really go that well together,” Bucky informed him as Steve was busy shoveling the second mountain of ricotta pizza into his mouth. Bucky was pretty sure there were other foods beneath the ricotta, but he couldn’t be perfectly sure at this point.

“Shh,” Steve hissed. “Worry about yourself. I’ve got this.”

“Has he forced you to go on any morning runs with him yet?” Riley asked. “That’s how he balances this level of carb intake.”

“The only way I am going on a run in the morning is if I haven’t gone to bed yet,” Bucky wholeheartedly replied. “I do not do mornings if I can help it.”

“Well, I guess you can set your own hours if you freelance your computer programming skills.”

Bucky grinned. “Did the app work okay?”

“So far, so good,” Sam reported. “After you fixed the little email bug, it’s been pretty smooth.”

“I’ve already got more ideas for it,” Steve announced. 

“Slow down,” Bucky said around a mouthful of his own pizza. “Make a list. We’ll discuss rolling out updates in a bit.”

“Let’s discuss you joining us again,” Sam urged. “Have you thought about it any more?”

Bucky swallowed and took a deep breath.

“Kind of,” he admitted, and Steve perked up considerably. “I think there’s some things that I could help with. But I’m not a speaker. Someone else would have to speak.”

“You could become a speaker,” Steve hedged. 

“Don’t push it.” Bucky licked his lips. “But I searched through a lot of your old videos and tweets and speeches and everything, and I can’t find where any of you have ever spoken on anything to do with violence- partner violence.”

They were all quiet a moment before Steve said contritely, “We haven’t.”

“Nobody does.” Bucky set his pizza down and looked at the men around the table. “When I was first trying to get help, I called a few hotlines. I wasn’t allowed to leave the house at that point and I couldn’t have my phone unless he was in the room, but I got his phone one night and I called. Three different hotlines over two different days. And they all thought I was the abuser. They automatically heard a man’s voice and assumed I was trying to get help to stop hurting someone else. They never considered that I could be the one being hurt. And when I explained myself? They floundered. There weren’t any resources, shelters. They didn’t have any guides for how to help men. They tried, sure, but they didn’t do a lot of good. They were woefully underprepared for the victim to be male. Furthermore, they kept thinking my wife or girlfriend was the one controlling me. I kept having to say, ‘I’m gay. I’m gay.’ But they didn’t have help for that either. If it seemed they were confused at how to help me get away from a female abuser, that didn’t change much when they found out he was male.”

The other three men at the table all looked at one another hesitantly. 

“And when I did get free, I couldn’t go to the regular shelters they had there. There’s one in Shelbyville where I’m from, and they actually referred to it as a ‘battered women’s shelter,’ which is awful all around.” Bucky wiped his greasy fingers on a cloth and brushed his hair back behind his ear. “Indianapolis was a little better. Of course, that was much later and I was in the hospital and then recovering. I went home with a couple who worked there, and they looked after me until I was well enough to move into a halfway house for drug rehab patients that had a spare room I could use temporarily. It wasn’t the right place for me either, but they didn’t have anything else.”

“Lesbians and bi or pan women could still be housed with women,” Steve said, more or less thinking out loud rather than informing anyone. 

“But what about men?” Sam added. “And anyone gender non-conforming?”

“There’s no one there for them.”

Bucky nodded. “I definitely don’t think the survivor advocate world is ready for anyone outside the gender binary. They’d probably be awful trying to help or house anyone gender fluid or from the trans community.”

Sam and Steve both looked to Riley. 

“He’s right,” Riley agreed. “They can’t even let us use the bathroom in peace. They would have a field day with placing one of us in a shelter.”

“You?” Bucky mouthed and pointed playfully, kind of surprised. 

Riley grinned and winked.

“Do you know the statistics? I looked them up,” Bucky continued.

Sam nodded approvingly. “You’re doing great at our job already.”

“With lesbians, intimate partner violence is reported by one in every eight women,” Bucky explained. “Whereas with straight women, it’s reported by one in six women.”

“One in six, I knew that,” Steve said with a nod. His mother had mentioned the statistic to female house guests before to help them see how prevalent the issue really was. “Is there a statistic for bi and pan people?”

“I’m getting there,” Bucky replied. It was obvious that this had been on his mind enough to commit the stats to memory. “Straight men don’t even report intimate partner violence at high enough levels to be considered a reliable estimate. Gay men don’t either, though reported statistics are anywhere from one in six gay men to one in four gay men. They really don’t know.”

He paused, looking really upset for a moment, and Steve saw a fire in Bucky that he could recognize from the ones often burning in himself over the years.

“Would any of you like to take a guess at what percentage of bisexuals - male and female - report abuse?” He only waited a beat. “Half. Literally half. The statistic is slightly skewed toward women being higher, but just barely. Men still ring in at 47%.”

“I’m terrified to ask where the trans community falls,” Riley said uneasily.

“The reported cases aren’t high enough to give a solid estimate,” Bucky replied, “But they are fearful that the trans and gender non-conforming communities have it the worst. Granted, all of these stats vary based on ethnicity and race and cultural background, socio-economic situations, status of citizenship, and so on.”

“HIV status,” Steve added, not having to ask to know.

Bucky sat back in his seat, his hair falling back by his face. “I can’t speak to crowds or Congress, but I also can’t just let it go on without doing something, _anything_ to help.”

“Do I hear wedding bells?” Riley asked Sam without even trying to hide his question. 

Sam laughed. “The last time we heard someone say that, Steve was sitting at the lunch table at school. He was about sixteen, and he was burning with that same passion that you are right now.”

“And look at him now.”

Steve reached an arm out and put it around Bucky’s waist before turning in to speak to where only Bucky could hear.

“I’m so proud of you,” he murmured. “You’re going to do remarkable things.”

And Bucky smiled before saying, “Thank you.”

He picked his pizza back up and took another bite as Sam asked, “So are we counting this as a business dinner?”

—⍟-⍟-⍟— 

Bucky didn’t know why, but seeing Steve walk out in the uniform made his heart beat faster and his mouth go dry.

“You _made_ that?” Bucky asked. His hand went out to brush along the well-stitched seams and the different materials comprising the costume.

“Don’t look so surprised. I’m an artist in my spare time, remember?” Steve laughed. “Gotta make sure I look good. Can you imagine me walking out in anything less than perfection? At Pride? Baby, they’d rip me apart.”

Bucky shook his head and stole a swallow of the bottled orange juice Steve had tossed on the bed when they’d decided he should trial run the costume.

“Okay, so you go out in this for the parade? Are you wearing it the rest of the time?” 

“It’s too hot to wear all day,” Steve replied. “Figure I’ll wear one of my shirts with the Captain America symbol on it in rainbow colors. They all have the website on the back so people can go check it out if they want. I’m there to have fun, but I’m there to help too.”

Bucky smiled and twisted the cap back on the juice. 

“Have one I could wear?”

“Oh yeah. Pick a color. Short sleeve or tank top?”

“Black tank,” Bucky answered. “I’ve never been to a pride event before.”

Steve stopped his motions as he reached to unzip the uniform. “Never?”

“No. I know that sounds crazy, but it was always a risk trying to go to the one in Indianapolis when I wasn’t out to everyone in Shelbyville, and they’re a small, conservative town. It just seemed better not to.”

“Well, I promise that tomorrow I will escort you to your very first pride event in style. We’ll see the booths, play games, listen to music, get our faces painted, walk the High Line if you want.”

“Walk in a parade.”

“You wanna walk with me?”

“I don’t have enough rainbow stuff to walk.”

“You don’t have to. Carol and Maria have a float and volunteers to spread the work about their community center. You could help them throw out necklaces and candy and condoms and bracelets and whatever else they’ve thought up this year. Or you could help me, Sam, and Riley. We have frisbees with the logo on them, and I had flags made that look like the stripes were made with lines from a paintbrush.”

Bucky appreciated the offer, but shook his head. “Thank you, but I’d rather watch it. I’ve never seen one.”

Steve grinned and reached to wrap his arms around Bucky. “Bring an empty lightweight pack back for the goodies everyone gives out. You have a drawstring bag or something?”

“Do I need to get one?”

“I probably have an extra.”

He kissed Bucky’s lips for no other reason than that he could, and they both smiled.

“Maybe we should go shopping. I could pick up one of those and something else to make my outfit pop. Shoes with rainbow laces or a rainbow watch band or something.”

“Sounds fun.” Steve kissed him again quickly and let go. “I have a few phone calls to make before tomorrow. Just making sure everything is in order for my speech and stuff. But we can go after.”

Bucky reached out and helped Steve to unzip the uniform. “Your mom going?”

“She’s going to try for a little while,” Steve said as he slipped out of the uniform. “She usually helps at the medical tent, but she’s never missed a Pride ever since I came out. She doesn’t want to miss it this year either, so she’s going to do her best.” He tossed the suit onto the bed, grabbed his jeans and pulled them on, and then turned back to Bucky who looked Steve’s bare torso up and down.

“Good. I’ll call her and see if she needs anything while we’re out shopping.”

“Good idea. Thanks. Phone calls and then shopping?”

“You make your calls and we can meet back in a bit,” Bucky agreed. 

Steve’s brow furrowed and he tugged his shirt back over his head. “Going somewhere first?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied. His voice was bright and energetic when he reached into his pocket. “First, I’m going to get my phone screen fixed.”

-The End-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue already posted.
> 
> Thank you to EVERYONE, even you. ♥


	9. Epilogue

A Few Years Later

It was so late by the time their flight got in that all Bucky wanted to do was flop on the floor directly inside the front door and sleep there; coat, shoes, scarf, and everything still on. But Steve wouldn’t allow it. Somehow he managed the amazing feat of not only getting Bucky upright again, but through a short and even-tempered insistence, he got him out of his suit, into the shower, and then into bed without any serious dilemmas.

Steve put Bucky to bed, tucked him in, kissed his lips, and turned out the bedside lamp as if Bucky were his child instead of his husband. 

“I love you,” Steve told him gently before going around and climbing in on his own side.

“Love you,” Bucky murmured, already mostly asleep.

Steve left his own bedside lamp on and reached for his phone and his sketch pad. A text came through from his mother asking if they’d gotten in okay, and Steve muffled the volume of his phone and FaceTimed her in response.

“Just wanted to show you we’re home safe. Sorry I didn’t call you after the flight landed. They pulled Buck’s luggage and we had to go to some special office to get it back. He’s pretty upset with them. They didn’t pack it back the way he had it, and his gift for his sister got broken.”

“Where is Bucky?” Sarah asked, and Steve tilted the phone so Sarah could see the sleeping carcass beside him.

“I’m surprised you can’t hear how deep he’s breathing. He’s about to be snoring.”

“He texted me he thought it went okay,” Sarah spoke up, trying to urge more details out of Steve.

“He did so good, Ma,” Steve admitted with a proud grin. “He was nervous and sweating, and I was afraid he was going to forget his whole speech or something, but he walked up, set out his memo card, started talking, and just _nailed_ it.”

Sarah was grinning from ear to ear. “You recorded it for me, right?” she asked, even though she had already told Steve to record it multiple times in the days leading up to the speech.

“Yes, yes, of course.”

“I was hoping they’d live-stream it online, but if they did, I couldn’t find it anywhere.”

“It’s no big deal. I’ve got it recorded. Couldn’t let you miss your favourite son’s first speech.”

Sarah scoffed and waved her hand as if to brush Steve off, but he also noted that she didn’t deny his claim.

“I’ll let you go,” she told him, getting up from the sofa to climb the stairs toward her own bed. “I’m sure you’re tired. I was just waiting up on you.”

“Thanks, Ma,” Steve replied with a small wave. “Good night.”

He disconnected the call and set his alarm, before thinking twice and turning the alarm off again. He’d earned the right to sleep in with Bucky tomorrow.

He changed his mind on the sketchbook and set it aside again, settling the pencil and his phone on top of it. Then Steve looked over at his husband, shirtless and sprawled out on the bed beside him, sound asleep. One arm was thrown over Bucky’s head haphazardly, and his breaths were deep and even. Steve smiled a soft smile, and leaned in and kissed the side of Bucky’s head. 

“Goodnight, Buck,” he told him, before turning out the light, nestling into his pillow, and looking up at what he could see of the stars on the ceiling above him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again! ♥

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me [on tumblr](http://ribbonsflyingoutthewindow.tumblr.com)! ♥

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for "Nothing Dims These Stars"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27594220) by [ohstars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohstars/pseuds/ohstars)




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